


Every Road

by pene



Series: All I ever need is everything [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-14 00:19:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1245673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pene/pseuds/pene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He wonders if being with Kurt will always feel like this. Like it’s summer, every day. Like the blue skies will never end.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Kurt and Blaine have the show, they have plans, they have each other. They’re in love and they’re better together. But living as adults with careers and a show and *theater* on the line is hard and it’s work. Love might be magic, especially when your boyfriend is your first and your last, but love doesn’t magically resolve everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an immediate sequel to [Every Word](http://archiveofourown.org/works/953097/chapters/1864379). You should probably read that story first if you can. 
> 
> Corinna and multicorn were the yin and the yang of readers and advisors throughout.

Kurt glances around, taking in the darkened theater. He’s still in costume, though he’s taken off King David’s vest and hooded head piece. The chain work means they’re too heavy for ordinary wear. He’s the last one here. The Sunday matinee was well attended but now it’s early evening and the curtains are down. Kurt lifts himself to perch on the edge of the stage, pulls out his phone and dials.

“Kurt!”

“Hi dad.”

There’s a smile in his dad’s voice. It reaches right down into Kurt’s heart. “Carole thought you’d call us earlier in the week. But I figured we’d have to wait until Monday’s lock out. Give you boys a chance to let things settle in.”

His dad’s office chair emits a familiar creak at the other end of the phone line. “I've got something to tell you, dad.”

“Course you do. Is Blaine there?”

Kurt shakes his head. He’s distracted by the thought of Blaine at his apartment, shifting between the keyboard and the laptop, hair disheveled. “He missed today’s show. He’s working on writing something new. I haven’t seen it yet.”

“Would’ve liked to talk to him too.”

Kurt pauses. He rolls his eyes and smiles as he realizes something. “You already know,” he says. “Dad! I was calling to tell you.”

“I’ve known you all your life, kid.” His dad sounds pleased with himself. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Get you boys back in a room together working on something you care about…”

Kurt shifts and leans more comfortably against a pillar at the edge of the stage. “What do you think about it?”

“It’s not what I think that matters, Kurt.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Look, you’re an independent kid. You’ve always done things your own way, even before you maybe had to. And that’s great. That’s you and I’m proud of you. But doing things your own way doesn't always mean doing them alone. Anyway, I like Blaine. He’s a good man – he gets you and he watches football with me. That’s gotta be an unusual combination.”

Kurt laughs. He’s not sure why he was nervous about this conversation.

His dad says, “I don’t think I need to ask if you’re happy. But it’s my job. So are you happy?”

There's no need to consider his answer. “I’m happy.” He thinks about saying _this is everything I ever wanted._ But that’s not true. Kurt has wanted a lot of things. Stardom, safety, great roles, the respect of his peers, his mother around for his tenth birthday, access to the Agi Mdumulla fall collection. The extraordinary thing about his relationship with Blaine is that it has never eclipsed those things, but has somehow simply become a part of them.

“And if you’re happy, I’m happy. I’ve watched you through a lot of things. Your mom, the stuff at school, when you kept having nightmares about Mickey Rooney’s face.”

“I’m pretty sure it was Mickey Rourke’s face, dad.”

“That right? Poor guy. Either way I’ve watched you through some hard stuff. And I know some of it had to do with that boy. But it always seemed like you thought he was worth it.”

“Yeah. I do.” It’s a steady pulse inside.

“And that’s a good thing. Now tell me how’s the show going? When are you headed back to New York?”

“That’s the other thing,” says Kurt. “We’ve got three weeks left on this run, and it’s wonderful, I’ll tell you all about it. But first - after the show’s over it looks like Blaine’s moving to New York with me.”

“Good,” says his dad. “That makes sense. Though don’t ask me to be there when you tell Santana.”

“Oh,” Kurt stops. “I don’t know if he’s moving **in** with me, dad.” If he’d thought about it at all he’d probably imagined Blaine in a Lower East Side studio: narrow but well-lit, keyboard in one corner and fresh Egyptian cotton sheets on the bed.

“Okay,” says his dad. “You’re old enough to know what you want.” They talk about the shop and Blaine and his dad’s health and Blaine and the show and his new friends and Carole and Finn and Blaine.

And that’s it. Simple. Kurt’s feels like he could just blow away with how beautifully simple everything is.

**

Blaine looks up the street. He jumps up and down a little in the pool of streetlight and lets his feet skip on the sidewalk. There’s no sign of the Muni. It’ll certainly come sometime, though, and it’s hard to mind when he is on his way to friends, to music and a piano bar. To Kurt.

He wonders if being with Kurt will always feel like this. Like it’s summer, every day. Like the blue skies will never end.

All the songs in his head are about sunshine. _I’ve got sunshine, here comes the sun, sometimes the sun shines on me, don’t let the sun go down, you are the sunshine, like a blister in the sun_ … This is ridiculous. It’s night time. Blaine drops his chin to his chest and laughs at himself. 

A bus turns the corner and heads up the street. He hails it happily. He hasn’t seen Kurt all day but if the lights are on his side, La Soir is only ten minutes ride from here.

Kurt is already in the basement bar. He seems eye-catchingly bright even in the low light. He’s sitting on one of the couches, long legs crossed casually as he sips on a cocktail and listens to Amaryllis singing, “Heart of Glass”. On one side Elisha is leaning back in his chair, eyes on the stage. On the other Tina and Tex pore over the song list. Wes and his fiancée Doris are with them. It’s going to be a good night.

Kurt’s eyes catch Blaine’s across the room. His smile is warm and secret. Blaine beams back.

Tina looks up. She freezes for a moment, her eyes on Kurt’s face, then looks across the room at Blaine. She draws back a fist and punches Kurt in the arm. Blaine winces as he heads toward them. The hit looked painful.

“You assholes,” she says as Blaine approaches. “You total assholes.” Tex looks at her then turns to Blaine and Kurt quickly and grins. “How long has this been going on?” asks Tina.

There’s a pause.

“To my knowledge, only about seven days,” says Wes politely.

“You knew?” she asks, glaring though she hardly knows Wes.

“Difficult to miss, really,” he says.

“True that,” interjects Elisha.

“Oh no you don’t, guys,” says Kurt. “We’ve been irreproachable. Entirely professional. We haven’t even brushed fingers on set.”

“No matter how hard that’s been,” adds Blaine.

“I don’t doubt that,” says Wes. He is caught in thought for a moment. “It’s just – It’s obvious.”

“You said it’s in the eyes, babe,” says Doris. Her voice is soft. Everyone turns to her and she colors a little under her black hair and freckles. “Inner joy?” she says, embarrassed. Wes pats her knee a little.

Tina sighs theatrically. “Ugh, they’ve done that for **ever** ,” she says. “Soulmate eyes, hearts and flowers and serenades. But seriously, guys, this is for real?”

“It’s for real,” says Kurt and Blaine smiles at her, projecting certainty.

Tina’s gaze flicks between them. “Okay,” she says. She shakes her head and mutters to herself.

“Right,” says Tex. This calls for a love song. Which of you two is up first?”

“Oh no, you guys hear me every night,” says Kurt. “It’s your turn, Blaine.”

Blaine is disconcerted. He hasn’t even looked at the song list yet. 

“Nah Kurt’s first, Carmody’s already queued one up,” says Elisha. “You’re going to love it.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow but people are already clapping for him and several are pushing him toward the stage.

“Okay okay. No need to paw the jacket,” mutters Kurt brushing hands away from his James Dean windbreaker. He steps toward the piano and Blaine watches him hide a smile as he reads the song Carmody has selected.

When the music starts Blaine feels that bubbling laughter inside, half horror, half delight. Elisha slaps his back and Carmody winks across at him. Kurt moves to center stage and struts a little, bringing his best boots-are-made-for-walking attitude.

 _Here you come again, just when I’d begun to get myself together,_ he sings and Blaine throws his head back and laughs. It’s perfect really, though Kurt looks away as he sings about pretty lies. But then, _All you gotta do is smile that smile, and there go all my defences._ Kurt sings with his eyes laughing and dark on Blaine. There are some whoops from their tables.

Kurt angles his hips and walks the stage and Blaine would watch this forever.

“What are you gonna sing, Blainey-days?” asks Tina as Kurt exits stage left and everyone claps. He takes a couple more bows and smiles at Blaine sheepishly.

“No idea,” says Blaine because all the songs he can think of are still about sunshine and the dizzying delights of having this boy back in his heart. And he really thinks they don’t need more of that.

“How about some Springsteen,” says Tina.

He nods. “Sure.” He’s still watching Kurt.

Tina squeezes his hand. “You can take your eyes off him for one second,” she says.

“I know,” he says. “But he’s-“

“Blaine, you are so fucked,” she says.

“And I am fine with that,” he says and ignores her huff and giggle in favor of watching Kurt walk past everyone heading directly for Blaine. It feels good to be able to count on it again.

Blaine reaches out and pulls Kurt smoothly into his lap. He feels rather than sees Kurt’s swift careful glance around the room, that glance any gay boy growing up in the middle of America developed over the years. Some of Kurt’s beauty, that quickness in his glance, is horrifyingly tied up in all the ways he has been unsafe.

Blaine wraps an arm about Kurt’s slight waist and presses a kiss to his shoulder. It’s a karaoke bar in the heart of San Francisco. No one can touch them here.

Later Blaine sings Springsteen. It’s incredible being on stage again, singing with the whole room in the palm of his hand. He grins at Kurt and changes the genders as he goesI want to know if love is wild, boy, I want to know if love is real. Kurt never looks away. When Blaine finishes, he applauds like Blaine has done something extraordinary.


	2. Chapter 2

Blaine’s lying on his back on a picnic rug, soaking up the day. The sky is clear and the sun is out, and not just in Blaine’s heart this time. One hand is flung over his eyes, the other traces dreamy patterns up and down Kurt’s arm beside him.

“Are you going to tell me about this new thing you’re writing?” says Kurt.

Blaine’s hand stills. There’s a flutter of anxiety in his belly. He rolls to one side and looks at Kurt. They’re in Dolores Park with the whole of San Francisco stretched out before them. There’s an Ultimate Frisbee game, there are people reading, there are dogs and inline skaters and bicycles.

“I have the story all laid out in my head,” Blaine says. He wants to put his best foot forward but he hasn’t had time to refine his thinking yet. “It’s derivative but- it hinges on the way that loving someone changes both of you. How by the very act of loving and being loved we create our own soul mates.”

“Hmmm?” Kurt’s hum is encouraging.

“I’ve written most of the first song. So it seems like it’s going somewhere. It’s got a 1940s feel. It’s- I’m rewriting The Little Prince.”

Kurt frowns. “Oh. Children’s theater? With a child as the lead?”

“No. No no. It’s more than that. I’m not explaining it properly but it’s kind of sensual and old fashioned. That’s the way I’m envisaging it.” He takes a breath, “And I know this gorgeous countertenor.”

“Oh no. Blaine, no.”

Blaine is stung. “You haven’t heard-“

“I read The Little Prince as a French primer, Blaine. I can’t see how it would work as a real show. It’s a parable about a little boy.”

“A little prince,” says Blaine. His tongue feels thick in his mouth. He takes a breath and sits up cross-legged. He leans away a fraction so he’s not touching Kurt.

“There are talking animals.”

“Okay,” Blaine says slowly though the truth is it’s not really.

“Blaine?” Kurt sits up too, back on his heels. He reaches out a hand. “We’re alright. I just-“

Blaine closes his eyes. It’s hard not to capitulate when Kurt is so sure. “Kurt,” he says. “It’s not- I don’t expect you’ll always want to fill every role I dream up for you.” It’s probably a half truth. “But I need you to support me.”

“I do!” Kurt is all surprise. “Of course I do.”

“Then I need you to listen before you say ‘no’.”

Kurt opens his mouth to object, huffs, but closes it before he speaks. He tries again. “Okay.” He gives Blaine his full attention.

It’s hard to get started. Blaine thinks for a moment. “Right. So, it’s a stage musical but full of 1940s style crooners and big band and jazz. I’m using wartime music, with Billie Holliday and Bing Crosby and I’m writing stuff that’s more modernized, like Norah Jones’ music-“

“Diana Krall,” says Kurt. Blaine nods.

“It’s the story of a World War I pilot who crashes into the desert. He’d die there, except he meets a boy, this perfect boy whose home is an asteroid and who is in love with a flower. And the boy saves him really. The pilot learns about survival.”

“And snakes, and talking foxes,” says Kurt. But he is smiling affectionately and Blaine feels the force of that – of Kurt hearing him and maybe even changing his mind.

“He learns about love too,” says Blaine.

Kurt nods, biting on his lip. “The kind of love that changes people from ordinary to the only person in the world,” he says. “Okay, you’re right. I can see it.” Blaine meets his eyes. Kurt hasn’t apologized but all the respect Blaine wants is right there near the surface.

“And there are gorgeous scarves,” Blaine says as Kurt sits forward onto his knees and leans to kiss him. 

Kurt laughs a soft breath against his lips. Blaine shifts his head to run his lips and teeth up Kurt’s jaw and kiss his neck. Kurt sighs into it, then sits back on his heels again.

“You are very talented, Blaine Anderson.”

Blaine smiles. “Thank you. You should remember that when I outline my plans for your role in my musical about Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen.”

“More wartime musicals, Blaine?”

“They’re wartime poets. It’s very moving.”

“But Owen dies!”

“You can play Sassoon. He survives.”

Kurt sighs. “I’d need a voice coach to get the accent right,” he says. He runs a hand up Blaine’s thigh and lets his thumb brush Blaine’s hip. “Anyway, you promised me a happy musical,” he says.

Blaine’s breath hitches as Kurt’s hand slides lower. “I remember.”

Kurt fixes him with his eyes. “You’d better,” he says. “I can’t let you and your skills as a dramatist tamp down on everything I’ve dreamed.”

“I’m sort of hoping the opposite,” says Blaine.

“Yeah.” They sit for a moment, facing one another, Kurt’s hand firm on Blaine’s hip. It’s like in a movie; it’s always like a movie when it’s just the two of them. The park and all its movement disappear.

“I want to take you home,” Kurt says after a moment.

“Picnic’s over?” asks Blaine.

“The picnic was perfect. But the things I want to do to you are not intended for public consumption,” says Kurt. He’s blushing slightly and Blaine remembers him at seventeen, remembers the tentative way they first touched. Kurt’s the same boy but more now, more to Blaine and just more.

**

It’s early afternoon. There’s no show until tomorrow evening, and the day seems to stretch boundlessly. Kurt feels indulgent; a whole day with Blaine and no performance to bring them back to reality. They’ve had a romantic picnic and real conversation and there’s time left for everything. There’s no hurry.

Still, he kisses Blaine as soon as he closes the door of his bedroom. He has Blaine’s shirt off moments later. He feels greedy and happy with it. He presses Blaine against the door, holds his wrists at his sides as he leans in to kiss him again. Their bodies are close against one another, rich with promises old and new. Blaine moans responsively, humming into Kurt’s mouth and it lights Kurt’s confidence and adds to his craving.

“Lie down for me,” he says into Blaine’s ear. He releases him and steps back from the door. “Take off your pants and lie down on your stomach for me.”  
Blaine looks at him swiftly then moves to comply. He spreads out. His skin is rich against the creamy bedspread. Kurt watches and slows his breathing.

“Okay?” asks Kurt as he takes his time removing his own clothes. He’s a little embarrassed by how much he wants here.  
Blaine nods into the mattress. “Mmmhmm” he manages.

Kurt rests his knees on the bed and runs his fingers across Blaine’s shoulders. He traces the muscles in Blaine’s upper arms. His voice cracks as he speaks. “God, Blaine. There are so many ways I want to touch you.”

“Please,” says Blaine softly.

Kurt shifts forward and runs his fingers down Blaine’s spine. The bones shift as Blaine squirms.

“Stay there, sweetheart,” says Kurt. “Lie still.”

Blaine’s face is buried in his arms as Kurt reaches for the lube. The room is quiet, save for Blaine’s soft breathing and the sound of the cap opening.

Kurt tips lube onto his fingers. He’s focused on the gorgeous boy lying out on his bed. He takes his dry hand and rests it on Blaine’s upper arm. He presses against it, holding Blaine’s upper body firmly in place against the sheets. The fingers of his other hands slip between Blaine’s cheeks and press against his hole.

“Okay?” he asks breathlessly.

“Yes, yes.” Blaine’s voice is muffled.

In the past week Kurt has watched Blaine’s wide soft eyes as he opens up beneath him; he’s felt Blaine’s body thrash under his own, all wild generosity and incoherence. They’re not teenagers any more. He’s experienced Blaine in a hundred new ways. But today he is fixed on the thought of holding Blaine in place and simply giving him pleasure.

As Kurt’s fingers press inside Blaine, Blaine’s legs shift further apart. He shifts and mumbles impatiently. Kurt moves his fingers inside him, stretching him further.

“Please, Kurt,” says Blaine with a broken voice, and the please runs like fire down Kurt’s spine. 

Kurt lifts himself and kneels between Blaine’s legs. He stays there a moment, feeling Blaine’s muscles stretch about his fingers and the pressure give way to openness. Then he slips his fingers out of Blaine. He moans under his breath as Blaine tries to hold him inside.

“I’m right here, baby,” he says. He rolls a condom on as quickly as he can, then presses back on Blaine’s shoulder blade, holding him firmly in place as he bends to kiss around Blaine’s neck and jawline and breathe him in. He lifts his hips, lines himself up and pushes his cock inexorably into Blaine. He feels Blaine’s rough exhale, the breath forced out of him. They are still for a moment - Blaine surrounding Kurt; Kurt pressing Blaine against the bed with his hips and with his hand.

Kurt shifts a little. Blaine moans. Kurt moves his dry hand and wraps it under Blaine’s shoulder, tracing his lips with his thumb and then fingers. Blaine’s tongue laps at him and he sucks, gently pulling Kurt’s fingers into his mouth. He looks gorgeous, eyelashes dark on flushed cheeks and lips and tongue playing against the only part of Kurt he can reach. Kurt aches. He pushes his fingers further into Blaine’s mouth and pumps his hips slowly, moving deeper into Blaine’s body. Beneath him Blaine can only moan, low in his chest, and suckle on Kurt’s fingers.

“God Blaine,” says Kurt roughly, moving rhythmically inside him. “God.” He keeps going.

They come one after the other, Blaine rutting into the sheets as Kurt pushes deep and falls apart above him. Nothing has ever come close to this thing they have. 

**

Afterwards Kurt is gentle as he cleans them up. Blaine watches, tucking his hands behind his head and admiring.

“Thank you,” he says as Kurt finishes. Kurt smiles but looks away. He looks beautiful, like he’s been taken apart, but he also looks embarrassed. Blaine thinks for a moment, watching him and understanding.

“You know, I do get that sometimes having a semblance of control gets you off, sweetheart. We can definitely work with that,” Blaine says and when Kurt looks up at him, arrested, he grins.

Kurt relaxes. He crawls into Blaine’s arms. His body feels heavy against Blaine, sated and grateful. Blaine loves every part of him.

“After all, I know how it gets to you when you have to admit I’m right,” says Blaine.

Kurt sucks in a breath. “Well it’s so rare,” he says after a moment.

They lie still, wrapped in each other and the afternoon light. “You know it turns out you’re my muse,” says Blaine.

“Oh?” Kurt raises an eyebrow.

“Forty years from now I’ll be writing musicals with you as the lead. No actor will live up to you.”

“As long as you stop writing me roles as a pre-pubescent boy before I’m thirty-five we’ll be fine,” says Kurt.  
Blaine laughs silently, “Oh no. Once you see your first gray hair you’ll be begging me to write you as Peter Pan,” he says.

Kurt turns in his arms to look directly at him. His eyes are wide. “Oh god, you’re right. Promise you won’t ever let me become that guy?”

“I promise,” says Blaine and put a hand on his heart.

It’s ten minutes later when Kurt’s phone starts up a tinny rendition of _Baby’s got back._ He blinks for a moment and frowns, puzzled.

“It’s Adam,” he says. “I wonder what he wants.”

“Adam,” says Blaine. “The New York guy you-”

“You’ll like him,” says Kurt, easily. He kisses Blaine and rolls to sit naked on the edge of the bed. Blaine nods to himself as he looks at the ceiling. He probably will like Adam. It sounds like something he’d do. And anyway, he’s not bothered. Blaine’s the one moving to New York with Kurt.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Here comes some Adam POV_

Adam leans back against his kitchen bench and lets the phone ring. He watches Benji stir coconut milk into rice and peas. Their taste in food collides tastily over Jamaican curries.

“Adam!” says Kurt as he answers. His voice is sweet as ever in Adam’s ear. Adam grins across at Benji reflexively. 

“Kurt, love. What’s happening?”

“Oh, nothing. Everything’s good. Wonderful. The show’s running well.” Kurt sounds unsure of himself.

“And Blaine?”

There’s a fractional pause and Adam wonders how he will feel about whatever comes next. There’s no denying that Adam was in love with Kurt. And while that’s softened to a kind of nostalgic tenderness and brightened to a bitingly funny friendship there’s still a flicker of that old flame. There probably always will be. He doesn’t believe that takes away from the fact that he loves Benji deeply and joyously. Benji is his home, his very sexy, Jamaican born, sometimes dressed in drag home.

Kurt replies finally, “Blaine’s… well he’s here with me. He- We’re together. It’s-”

Adam laughs a little to put pause to the waffling. “You’re adorable and you’re in love.” He can tell it’s true which isn’t the only reason he’s saying it. There is an ease in being reasonable - in being known for being fair-minded.

“It looks like it, yes,” Kurt’s voice is low but there’s a smile in it.

Adam considers saying, _You know you were never anything but in love with him_ \- but it’s not really kind and it stings just a little. He doesn’t tell Kurt he is hardly surprised either. He moves across the kitchen and wraps his arms tight around Benji’s waist, kisses his broad warm shoulders.

“Benji and I can’t wait to meet him,” he says, “Which is why I called, actually.”

“Oh?”

“We’re coming out there in a fortnight.” Adam smiles at Kurt’s happy intake of breath. “Can you get us tickets to what’s said to be the hottest show in San Francisco?”

“Of course!” says Kurt. “Adam and Benji are coming out,” he says, presumably to Blaine. Adam takes the time to wonder what they were doing when he called. “We can get them seats, can’t we?” He continues with minimal pause. “Tell me the dates and we’ll organize it. You’re not just coming to see the show, are you?”

“It’s this national drag industry award night. They wanted a new face and Benji’s going to host.”

Benji interrupts. “No no, babe.” Adam looks at him questioningly. “Benji’s not about to be the new face. That honor rests with my much more fabulous alter ego. You can tell Kurt that Farren Heit and her truly gorgeous pegs will be there.”

Adam laughs and tells Kurt. “It’s a big deal,” he says. “It’s a national event with excellent exposure. It’ll raise Farren’s profile”

“Tell me it’s on a Sunday or Monday,” says Kurt, “so we’ll be able to make it.”

When they hang up Adam sidles back in beside Benji. Benji stirs the pot one extra time. Adam looks up slightly to kiss him.

“Love you, gorgeous,” he says when he moves away from his lips.

Benji smiles, wide and relaxed. “I know you do babe, and so do I,” he says. “You also know I wouldn’t kick that kid out of bed.”

Adam kisses him again, feeling giddy and delighted. “Think it might be getting a bit crowded, you with your long legs and Kurt with the love of his life.”

“We’ll just have to carry on as we are, then,” says Benji. “It’s a real struggle.” He covers the saucepan on the cooker then turns to Adam and presses him against the kitchen bench. “Dinner has a way to go, anything we should do with the time?” Adam feels the kiss all the way to the soles of his feet.

**

It’s the end of another night - their third week of sold-out shows. On stage, Blaine soaks in the applause. Kurt and Elisha were perfectly in sync again tonight, sexy and achingly in love. Vanessa was heart breaking. The success of the show bubbles inside Blaine. He’s well aware this accomplishment is small scale so far, but his dreams are big. And most of the time Blaine’s dreams tend to come true. 

He knows that he is in an unusually privileged position. The money he and Wes have been able to put into production didn’t come from waiting tables or data entry. He has had the freedom to put not just his whole heart but all his time into this show. Even now he can rewrite music as they go, transpose sections to best fit a cast member’s vocal range, cut songs that flop, include longer passages when something really works.

His money allows him freedom and buys him vegetables and noodles and oatmeal and date nights at the Benu tasting bar or over rustic “new French” food cooked at one end of a long table. It’s not enough to take them all the way to Broadway.

So far Wes has met with six producers and multiple investors. Wes is generally a composed kind of guy but Blaine can tell the lack of response is taking a toll on him. Tonight they’re all meeting up with the first Broadway producer who’s made Wes sound excited.

The producer, Bevin Yee, was behind an oddly successful trilogy of stage shows based on lost silent movies. He went on to produce a popular arena spectacular about Arctic and Antarctic exploration and has continued to make a name for himself on Broadway. He is here in the audience tonight.

“If you give me the keys I’ll meet you at your place later,” says Kurt as they walk off after curtain call. Blaine relishes the way that Kurt, who doesn't rely on much, takes his welcome in Blaine’s apartment for granted. 

“Wish me luck,” Blaine says.

“You don’t need luck, sweetheart, you have me.” Kurt winks. “And I suppose you also have your own not insignificant ability and charm. Go get him.” He kisses Blaine quickly. Blaine smiles at him for a distracted moment then spins about on the spot to go. 

It’s not ideal to meet directly after the show but this is the only time Bevin has available, so Blaine and Devi and Wes will take it.

Over a scotch and soda Bevin says, “This is good stuff, guys. We have an audience for it. There’s a lot of interest in ancient history, war is selling very well, and the romance is touching. I have notes, but we can discuss those at length when I’m not flying out in seven hours.”

Blaine nods. At Bevin’s prompting, he describes his writing process, his intent, the audience. Devi explains the staging and casting. Wes talks through the copyright issues and the various contracts that are already in place. Bevin asks intelligent questions about the show as a commercial venture.

Eventually he says, “Okay. You’re just kids but your heads are on straight enough. I’m working with a small conglomerate of investors. We’ve been looking for something ground-breaking, without being revolutionary. We have some money to put into a show to take it to the next level. Why don’t you put together a staging for all of us? I’ll arrange for them to be here a week, maybe Wednesday.”

Blaine nods his agreement.

“We can do that,” says Devi. “We can definitely do that.”

“I’ll arrange a space,” says Wes.

“We need to talk about the lead,” says Bevin and Blaine feels a rock drop in his belly. “The kid you have as David is talented, no arguments. But he’s an unknown. I have Cole Summers’ agent on speed dial. Cole’s turning eighteen. They’re eager for him to step into something a little more radical than the fairytale movie musicals he’s been headlining.”

Blaine blinks.

“I know casts grow to be close,” says Bevin. “And like I said, the kid you have is excellent. But this is business and Cole has a built in fan base. You need to let me cast him as David.”

Blaine has very good manners. Still, he has nothing to say. He thinks, _But the role was written for Kurt_. He’s hasn’t really been certain of that until now when it might truly matter.

“Thank you,” says Wes after a pause. “We’ll talk further.”

“Great, I’ll see you all in a week and a half. I think we could really have something here.” Bevin shakes hands with everyone and leaves to go upstairs.

Devi puts a hand on Blaine’s arm.

“Blaine,” says Wes. “We have to-“. He stops as he looks at Blaine’s face.

Blaine feels sick.

“Maybe it won’t work out with the Cole kid,” says Devi. “Is he any good?”

“He’s famous - the movies were huge,” says Blaine. “I mean, he can sing. But-“

“We’d never have cast him?” says Devi.

“We might have,” says Blaine honestly, “But not once we’d seen Kurt.”

Wes says, “I don’t disagree with you. It’s just-. Blaine this is what we have been aiming for. You know we need to consider this.”

Blaine presses his lips together and doesn’t speak for a moment. Kurt hasn’t hidden the fact that in the course of his short career he’s had doors slammed in his face. He’s learned to expect it. Blaine hates that he could be a reason Kurt faces one more hit.

“I know,” he says eventually. “Okay. I’m going home to see Kurt. We can talk tomorrow.” 

“The decision will come down to the three of us, Blaine,” says Wes quietly.

Blaine turns away and presses down on his frustration. This is not Wes’ fault.

“I have to go,” he says.

He knows love doesn’t make everything easy, but he thought he’d have more than two and a half weeks with Kurt before he had to disappoint him again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He thinks _David is my role. It was written for me_. But Blaine has never said that, not in so many words, and it’s not really how the world works.

Kurt is stretched out on Blaine’s couch, half watching some nice British people purchasing a country home on TV. Blaine’s place is no manor in Somerset. It’s not even a model of modern San Francisco interior design. But it has bench seats nestled under the large bay windows and bookshelves packed with neatly aligned books, superhero models and a robot from the 1960s. It has a full size dining table. It has all of Blaine’s polished charm, and the rent is almost certainly more than Kurt could afford.

For a moment he considers what his life would have been if Blaine had moved to New York with him years ago, as they’d planned.

They could probably have afforded a place in Manhattan, just a one bedroom with a functional kitchenette and a view of another apartment building. They’d have had Kurt’s car chair and his artwork and stainless kitchenware, and Blaine’s couch and bed and even his robots. Kurt would have woken to Blaine’s warm body and certain hands, or to his voice echoing sweetly in the shower. Together they’d have washed dishes and studied; they’d have met the neighbors and bemoaned the lack of a soufflé-appropriate oven. There would have been thousands of early morning kisses, thousands of times Kurt turned out the bedside lamp and Blaine was the last thing he saw.

It aches foolishly, this loss of things that never even existed.

Of course, if that had all happened, there are other things he would have missed out on. His relationship with Santana was built over shared dinners, 2 AM confessions and battles for hot water. The hours poring over call sheets with Rachel would have been different if he’d also been poring over them with Blaine. Adam and Benji might have been nothing more than acquaintances. There are things Blaine would have missed out on too: the majority of his friends and colleagues are people he met out here. He would have studied at a different school, maybe had a different focus. The show that’s brought Kurt and Blaine together now might not have been written at all.

There’s reason to be happy with the outcome, even taking into account the many years he missed Blaine. After all, they have forever now. 

When the doorbell sounds he goes to buzz Blaine in. There’s a certain domestic appeal to letting Blaine into his own home.

“Come on up,” Kurt says cheerfully.

He opens the door and leans in the doorway. He knows he looks good in his jeans, one long leg bent against the frame, the other stretched before him, but he’s also simply excited to be greeting Blaine as he arrives home.

“Hi honey, how was your day?” he asks as Blaine trudges up the last flight of stairs.

Blaine looks up and for a second his face is still. Then he smiles. “Look at you,” he says and takes the last few steps at a run. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He kisses Kurt. Blaine’s hands slide past his waist to his lower back and he tugs Kurt closer. They kiss more deeply. They’re still on the landing and Kurt tamps down on his desire to check whether anyone is watching.

When they pull back Kurt looks at Blaine for a long moment. There’s a strangeness in Blaine’s eyes that he can’t quite pin down. Kurt moves back so Blaine can step inside the apartment.

“What are you watching?” says Blaine. He closes the door behind them.

“Nothing, really. Grand Restoration something fancy.”

Blaine smiles vaguely. It doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s not a Blaine smile at all. Kurt’s heart stutters.

“How did it go?” Kurt asks. When Blaine doesn’t reply he reaches out a hand and tips his head. “Blaine. Please don’t pretend nothing is wrong.”

Blaine looks up. “Okay,” he says softly.

“It didn’t go well with the producer?” Kurt asks.

Blaine sort of nods, his eyes bright.

Kurt says, “The show is incredible. We are incredible. I’m certain it’s going to come together for us.”

Blaine holds up a hand to stop him. “No. It’s not that. The producer is interested. He wants us to stage it for a few investors. He seemed positive. But Kurt,” he meets Kurt’s eyes, “he’s talking about getting someone else to play David.”

“Someone else?” Kurt pauses for a moment. He thinks _David is my role. It was written for me._ But Blaine has never said that, not in so many words, and it’s not really how the world works.

“I know,” says Blaine. He probably does know, and he cares. Kurt knows he cares. But Blaine isn’t the one losing this role.

Kurt takes a shaky breath. “Who does he want instead?”

“That kid from those movie musicals. The fairy stories with the twins.”

Kurt blinks at him. “Oh.” Cole Summers. He knows the name. Everyone does. Half of him wants to cry, wants Blaine to wrap him up and make it better. The other half of him wants to walk away, close the door and think it through alone and in the dark.

“It’s just because he’s famous. But Kurt, the guy can’t hold a candle to you. We don’t know- Devi and Wes and I haven’t even talked it through really.”

Kurt says, “You’d be crazy not to take it.”

“We don’t need to take the first offer anyone makes.”

“It might be the last offer, Blaine,” says Kurt. “They’re not hammering on your door. Theater is hardly a low risk industry.” His tone is sharp but if he’s annoyed with anyone it’s himself, for somehow relying too heavily on the unspoken promise in this thing.

“It might not happen,” says Blaine and they stand in silence, not touching.

“Maybe this is a good thing,” Kurt says finally. He looks into Blaine’s eyes. “I need to keep developing my career without holding onto your coat tails.”

He watches Blaine swallow. “Kurt,” It’s a soft protest.

“I support you, Blaine, and I’m so proud that this is happening for you. The show is exceptional. But I can’t- We need to have our own careers. And this is just a timely reminder of that.”

Blaine looks deflated. “Devi and Wes and I haven’t decided what we’re going to do,” he says.

“You know what you have to do. The show matters. This is an incredible opportunity. Wes would never forgive you if you gave this all away for me.” Kurt sits on the couch in front of Blaine and looks up at him. “ **I** would never forgive you.”

Standing over him, Blaine is beautiful – all big eyes and sad pursed lips. “David was always you, Kurt,” he says. “Always.” And even in this moment it makes Kurt’s heart melt and hum.

“Come here,” says Kurt and reaches for Blaine’s belt to pull him closer. He starts to unbuckle it.

“Kurt. No,” says Blaine, blushing and smiling. He’s stupidly adorable. “You don’t need to-“

Kurt speaks sweetly. “Blaine. It looks like you might have a producer. It looks like the show is going to Broadway. We need to celebrate that. And right now I’m tired and I don’t want to talk and I don’t want to think. I can’t think of a thing that would be better than sucking you until you come down my throat.” He looks up through his eyelashes at Blaine and smiles as Blaine’s head drops back. Blaine exhales toward the ceiling.

It feels a little like a victory. Even alongside another defeat.

Kurt opens Blaine’s pants and slips his hands inside to push them down over Blaine’s ass. His cock is a little soft still, and there’s a sweetness to his vulnerability, a sweetness to pulling Blaine’s thighs close and sucking him gently inside, pressing against him with his tongue. He feels Blaine’s breath catch and looks up past his belly to find his eyes dark and cheeks flushed pink. Kurt takes Blaine further into his mouth as Blaine’s cock hardens and thickens.

He moves his head rhythmically, sucks deep into his mouth. Above him, Blaine groans. It will always be a thrill to be responsible for taking Blaine apart. The power of it dispels some of the pain of not being quite good enough.

Later with Blaine’s grateful, pleading lips against his and Blaine’s hand wrapped tight around his cock, Kurt thinks maybe they shouldn’t have fallen straight from disappointment into sex. But it’s almost two in the morning and Kurt’s body is humming with pleasure. Sex is a distraction but it’s also a reminder of how much he feels about this man. That matters too.

“Come on, baby. Let it go,” murmurs Blaine. There’s no impatience to it, just unfathomable tenderness.

“I love you,” he sobs into Blaine’s lips as he comes across his chest and stomach. “I love you.”

**

Kurt leaves early. He needs time to get this all clear in his head, to get to know the feeling of losing again.

Blaine is sleeping in his bed, mouth slightly open and lashes dark against his skin. Kurt wants to touch, will always want to touch. But he has to leave before the disappointment of last night sends him back, sobbing, into Blaine’s arms. He leaves a note on the pillow.

_Heading home for a couple of hours recuperation. You are distracting and I need to shower and warm up. See you at the theater. Remember Adam and Benji will be there tonight._ He adds, _Love you._

At home he sorts his laundry, answers email, stares at the ceiling. He can’t really sing. He tries not to think. When it’s late enough in New York he picks up the phone.

“Kurt!” says Rachel. “How are you? And how’s that gorgeous man of yours? I’ve been meaning to ask: can he write me a musical? I categorically need to be someone’s muse.”

“I’m well, he’s well. You’re not happy with the _Cube_ musical?”

“Yes, yes. You’ve seen the reviews, of course.”

“Of course. You don't have an equal on Broadway.”

“I read that.” Kurt can hear Rachel smiling and he tries not to mind. Her success is more than well-deserved. “But sometimes I’d like something with real profound emotion. There’s so much passion inside me and I can’t continue holding it in. I want to free it. Preferably in a leading role written just for my voice and presence. But honey, you called me! What’s going on with you.”

It’s not easy to tell Rachel about the potential loss of his role. But once he has she’s wonderful, denigrating Cole Summers as an amateurish hack, complimenting Kurt’s vocal range and emotional maturity in the bootleg video he sent her.

“Anyway,” she says firmly. “You can’t let the fact that it’s Blaine hold you back.”

Kurt squints at the phone. “What do you mean?”

“Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. Think about it. What would you do if it wasn’t Blaine?”

Kurt thinks for a moment. “Whatever I could to keep the role.”

“Whatever you could to keep the role,” echoes Rachel smugly. “This is **your** role. Blaine wrote it for you. You are _not_ going to give it up without a fight.”

It’s a battle cry. It’s a roar in his chest. And it’s the reason Kurt called Rachel.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It shouldn’t be about survival, not again. This time around Blaine really should be able to swoop in and make everything right.

Blaine blinks awake to an empty bed.

“Kurt?” he calls, but before he even finds Kurt’s note he knows he isn’t here. The absence feels huge - like a yawning, stupid space between them. The person he aches to make happy is hurting, and Blaine can’t hold him close because he’s not even here.

He stands, pulls on pajama pants, and shakes off the sting and the apprehension. He went to sleep with Kurt’s body pressed against his, their legs tangled and bodies sated, but he’s certainly old enough to avoid agonizing over one morning of waking alone.

The trouble is, Kurt on his mind like this tends to limit his capacity to think about anything else.

He opens his wardrobe and lays out bright pants and a Givenchy polo shirt with a camouflage stripe for after his shower.

The day stretches long before him. He wants to write, longs to find something positive with which he can move forward. But in the shower, the whole Little Prince concept feels flat and dull. At his desk, the Aviator is an elusive character with no personality of his own. The Little Prince sounds affected in Blaine’s head. Nothing interesting materializes.

It’s mid-afternoon when Blaine gives in. Predictably, he feels that he’s achieved nothing with his day. He tried to write but was distracted by a hundred things - viewing Apollo Ohno’s latest super slim fit shirts and shorts, catching up on the local music and theater calendar, clearing out his fridge. And always Kurt.

It is a relief to leave for the theater.

He has watched Kurt through disappointment before. He knows and trusts the way that Kurt survives. Still, Kurt is beautiful, and Kurt is Blaine’s. It shouldn’t be about survival, not again. This time around Blaine really should be able to swoop in and make everything right. Instead, he spent his day alone at home, looking out the window and writing a show no one will probably ever see.

“You’re early,” says Luisa, who’s setting up at bar.

Blaine nods acknowledgement. 

Backstage is predictably crowded. Blaine stops to speak with Lettie from props, but only briefly. He brushes past Navin from the band with a quick smile. All he wants is to see Kurt. It’s not that surprising; when he thinks about it he honestly can’t remember a time when he didn’t want to see Kurt. But today this desire is colored with worry in a way it hasn’t needed to be for the past couple of weeks.

Kurt looks surprised when Blaine finds him in a dressing room. But his, “Blaine!” is as warm as ever.

“I missed you,” says Blaine stepping close.

Kurt smiles, “I missed you too.”

“How are you with- everything?”

Kurt shuts his eyes for a moment. “Good. Fine.”

“Kurt?”

Kurt reaches around Blaine to close the dressing room door. “I’m fine, Blaine,” he says and leans in to kiss Blaine thoroughly.

“Stop trying to distract me,” Blaine says, breathless.

“I’m not allowed to kiss you?”

“No, well… yes, but we usually avoid it here.”

Kurt looks at him closely. “Well I don’t think anyone is going to accuse you of nepotism, any more, are they?”

Blaine breathes out slowly. “Kurt. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Kurt says quickly. “No, I don’t mean for you to be sorry. This is absolutely not your fault. But look-” He narrows his eyes. “Look, right now I need to go. They’re rehearsing the fight scene with the new guy and I should be there. And then we’ll be called on stage. There’s a lot going on and it all matters and I need to focus.”

Blaine nods. “Okay. Break a leg. I love you.”

“I love you too,” says Kurt immediately. “See you later.” He goes.

Blaine is not reassured, but there is a show to put on. He heads toward the band rehearsal space.

Ten minutes before the curtains are due to open, Blaine stops in the wings and scans the audience. He has only a vague idea of what Adam and Benji look like: Tall, handsome, blonde, English. Taller, black, drag queen. Some of those things won’t be visible from here.

He glances back off stage. Kurt is standing in the wings, breathing and humming under his breath to ensure his voice is perfectly primed. He doesn’t look Blaine’s way.

Blaine’s not worried about the relationship, not exactly. He just wants to reassure himself that the bone-deep forever and ever connection between them won’t disappear when they don’t have all the answers.

Finally the show starts and then Blaine’s words are on Kurt’s lips.Kurt is as good as he has ever been, perhaps better. It’s a kind of triumph, knowing Kurt will always be exceptional under pressure. Blaine watches. Tonight there’s added poignancy though. Blaine bites his lip as David faces the audience, singing, _I am strong, even on my own._

_Not on your own, never on your own_ Blaine thinks as though he can make it true. 

At this moment Blaine can’t imagine a stage show without him. He wants to write every word for Kurt. But maybe Kurt’s right and that kind of reliance is too much - too dangerous and too indulgent.

After the performance, Blaine heads to the foyer. The room is full of people and is a blaze of lights: an anachronistic combination of art deco wall sconces and 1950s chandeliers. It’s been half an hour since the show ended, and the crowd is beginning to thin out.

Blaine is caught up with Devi and Elisha, speaking with one of the short term sponsors.

“Okay, though, you have got to see Goliath’s head on the stake,” says Devi to the guy, laughing her big laugh. “And the one sheep that bleats in tune, at least when Kurt or Amaryllis sing.” Devi drags him backstage.

A moment later, Kurt enters through the doors from the theater. He’s taken the time to change into his street clothes. Blaine watches as he is engulfed in conversation by two admittedly very tall guys.

“The visiting ex?” says Elisha, nodding toward them.

“Yeah, Adam. And his boyfriend Benji.”

“Adam’s the white guy?”

Blaine nods.

In the early weeks of their break-up, Blaine imagined Kurt with other guys – imagined him undressing with someone else’s eyes on him, imagined someone undoing his belt, imagined Kurt kissing and touching and fucking someone who wasn’t Blaine. It seemed necessary somehow, though it was nearly unbearable. There were tiny moments when the pain of envisioning Kurt with someone else’s hands on his skin could almost erase the horrible fact that Blaine knew exactly what that felt like.

Eventually he had to stop. It didn’t change anything. It didn’t stop him from hating himself.

He watches Kurt with Adam now, the ease of his body, his confidence as he swiftly touches Adam’s arm. Kurt’s not comfortable like that with everyone. Physical contact has never been simple for him, especially with men.

Blaine’s not jealous but he feels greedy and a little resentful. He is aware of the ways in which this guy probably knows Kurt, he is discovering all the things Kurt learned to do without Blaine sharing his bed, without Blaine holding him as his shoulders shake and he comes back to himself. He has to remind himself that he could have been every one of Kurt’s lovers. Maybe. Even Blaine accepts that it’s difficult for seventeen year olds to promise forever.

Across the room Kurt lifts his head then waves to Blaine happily.

Blaine shakes off the memories and smiles. “There’s my cue,” he says.

“You got this,” Elisha says.

When Blaine approaches, Kurt takes his arm. “This is Blaine,” he says. His face is vivid. “Blaine, this is Adam and Benji.”

Adam stretches out a hand and Blaine takes it with his free one. Adam’s eyes crinkle a little.

“Blaine Anderson,” he says. “You have been high on my list of people to meet for a long time. And I have to say your show was phenomenal.”

Blaine can’t help but smile back. He isn’t sure what he was expecting, but given his earlier thinking it’s slightly unreasonable that Adam is kind, on top of everything else.

“Thank you,” he says. He shakes hands with Benji too, looking up into amused eyes. He continues, blushing a little and speaking quickly. “A lot of the credit has to go to the actors. They’re all incredible. Kurt is more than I even hoped.”

“We were just saying,” says Adam. “We couldn’t drag our eyes away.” He looks across to include Benji. “You broke my heart up there, Kurt.”

“I aim to please,” Kurt says, looking flustered. Then more seriously, “Thank you. I think you can blame Blaine for some of that.”

They all stand still for a fraction. Then Benji lets out a puff of laughter. “Oh. This is going to be fun,” he says. Blaine doesn’t think he’s being sarcastic. “You boys up for a late dinner?”

**

Adam leans his weight against Benji in the booth. Blaine and Kurt are sitting in the seat facing them, looking polished and young and unspeakably sweet as they discuss the menu.

“We could split the brie en croute and something healthy,” says Kurt.

Blaine nods earnestly. “Dijon asparagus salad?”

“Ooh. Perfect.”

Adam kind of wants to pet them both.

“So tell us,” he says, “What’s the plan with the show? Are you taking it to New York?” He doesn’t miss Blaine’s quick glance at Kurt.

“We’re looking into it. Right now we’re working on a production team and finance.”

“I’m not really involved in that aspect,” says Kurt brightly. “Which is best for everyone.” His voice rings and is brittle.

“We have some leads,” says Blaine. “We’ll get there. But tell us about tomorrow night, Benji. It’s an awards show?”

“Just like the Tonys,” says Benji. “And I’m Neil Patrick Harris. In a dress. Or rather seven dresses and a catsuit.”

“Speaking of which,” Kurt says. “Did you sort out the stitching on the samba outfit?”

Kurt’s interest in Benji’s work and his fantastical costuming is consistent and genuine, but Adam senses his relief at the change of subject.

Benji leans in. “The secret was more sequins.”

Kurt giggles, covers his mouth. “Of course it was!”

Benji says, “I look like fireworks on the lanai. Just wait until you see it. Adam can tell you. He had a taste today at rehearsal. Bit of a shambles, though.”

Adam smiles, remembering. “Only because the risers weren’t set up properly. You were wonderful, Benj.” He turns to Kurt and Blaine. “You boys are going to love it. There’s this bit with a puppet bird. Iridescent purple. I was in floods of tears.”

“Were you laughing or crying?” asks Kurt. He moves his arm so it rests against Blaine’s on the table. Blaine laces their fingers together.

“Both, love. Benji is inspired. The whole thing is ridiculous and inspired.”

“He’s just saying that because I am fantastic in bed,” says Benji. But he kisses Adam high on his cheek.

Kurt smiles and presses himself closer to Blaine’s side. Despite that there’s a wary energy between them that Adam wasn’t anticipating. “Did you bring any of the New York dancers out?” Kurt asks.

“No, but I have to tell you, San Francisco is putting on a fine showing,” says Benji.

When dinner is over they all head in different directions.

“We’ll see you boys tomorrow night,” Benji says as they part ways. 

Adam watches from the tram stop as Blaine and Kurt talk quietly. Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s neck as they kiss, soft and slow in the night. Then they walk in opposite directions. A few steps later Kurt pulls out his phone.

“The honeymoon is over?” says Benji.

“I don’t think so,” says Adam. “But something is going on.”

“It was a good night.” says Benji. “They’re good company. And that show. I wish I’d thought to bring tissues. Kurt was genuinely mind-blowing.”

Adam smiles. “He was. He’s always been special but they’ve pulled something remarkable together. Hopefully they can make it to Broadway.”

Benji rests his hand at Adam’s waist and fingers his belt. Adam looks up at him. He thinks about their comped room, the wide expanse of bed, the wide expanse of Benji’s skin. “Let’s splurge and take a cab to the hotel?”

Benji smiles, slow and knowing. “I don’t know. I was thinking we could walk. I show off a lot of leg in that tiny sailor dress,” he says.

“I can envision other ways to exercise,” says Adam. It’s a line and it’s cheesy but he’s actually never been above that.

Benji rolls his eyes and laughs low in his chest. “I bet you can,” he says. “Okay then, sir. This is usually easier in drag.” He stretches out a long arm to hail a cab.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He knows how drawing fluttering gasps and low moans from Blaine’s skin makes him feel like he’s already won a war. It makes him forget to fight._

Kurt switches off his alarm and lies on his back with his eyes open, waiting for the ceiling to shift into focus. It’s early. If Blaine were here he would be tempted to curl up against his sleep-warm body, press his face into his neck and let things be for half an hour. If Blaine were here he’d breathe in his deep sweaty morning scent, feel the muscles in his back and ass under his palms and be tempted into something more deliciously time consuming. He knows how drawing fluttering gasps and low moans from Blaine’s skin makes him feel like he’s already won a war. It makes him forget to fight.

So Blaine is at his own place. It was Kurt who insisted on it. Today he has to take action. He can’t let things move on without him. He can’t even sit still for fear that he’ll start to believe the voices that tell him he’s not good enough, doesn’t have broad enough appeal, is not conventionally masculine enough for Broadway.

So he won’t stop. Not even for the possibility of Blaine in his arms.

Kurt twists himself to sit upright and slips his feet into his slippers. He pulls on a robe. He leaves the lights in his room off but opens the curtains while he looks in his mirror to wash his face. The pale gray of morning flatters his skin and eyes and he knows he works best when he is supremely confident in his assets.

The truth is Kurt has been told ‘no’ more often than ‘yes’. It wears him down until he feels thin with it, all fragile skin and worry. He doesn’t have time for that.

He has to believe he has the talent. If he doesn’t, no one will. He has the talent and he has a plan that was hatched with Rachel over the phone. There's no point in waiting around.

Kurt opens up his laptop on the little desk. He’s already compiled a playlist of battle songs: all show tunes and diva pop. It’s time to fight this fight, and no one fights harder than Kurt Hummel on a strict diet of Broadway and Beyonce.

He turns the volume up. He jots down some bullet points. He sends a couple of emails, thumbs in a text message.

Kurt: I need to practice this morning, sweetheart. See you at the matinee x

Blaine: Missed waking up with you. See you then x

Kurt runs his scales. He drinks some tea with honey and lemon. He tries not to fidget. Finally he receives an email from Wes, with a confirmation from Devi. His meeting with them is arranged. It’s time to convince them that they need to back him at the investors’ meeting on Wednesday.

He texts Rachel.

Kurt: It’s a go. Noon today.

Rachel: High noon. Fitting. You have a flawless G5, Kurt. Lead with it. There’s no chance Cole Summers can match that. They’ll have to back you.

It’s Rachel’s equivalent of ‘courage’.

Later he receives another text. Obviously Rachel has roped Santana into their schemes.

Santana: Wes is that prep school boy? Can’t you just have sex with him too?

Kurt: Ewww, no! 1. Blaine 2. Wes is straight 3. Ewww, no! 4. Have you forgotten Blaine?

Santana: All right, all right. Keep your pants on, Pete. I just hope your “honorable” way works.

He dresses carefully. At the last minute he adds a perfect Japanese blossom scarf. He knows how people see him, he knows toning down his aesthetic might help, but he also knows he can’t win this if he’s not himself.

They meet in the office at the theater.

“I imagine you’re wondering why I gathered you here,” says Kurt. He’s been communicating with Rachel all day; he’s feeling a little theatrical.

“We presume you want to talk about the role, Kurt,” says Devi from behind the desk. She’s smiling but Devi is usually smiling. 

Wes half stands from his chair. “Is Blaine on his way?” 

“He doesn’t need to be here,” says Kurt.

Wes narrows his eyes a little then nods. “Why don’t we all take a seat,” he says. Kurt perches carefully on a swivel chair and eyes them both.

Devi leans back in her chair and says, “Before you say anything, Kurt, you should know we’re your biggest supporters. We know this show, we love this show. And the cast, particularly you and Elisha, have made something that was always great even greater.” 

“You just need to understand this is a business,” says Wes. “I would love for it to be all about the joy of creating something powerful but ultimately we need to make a profit.”

“Yes. And I do understand that, Wes. I’ve worked in the industry for five years. But before you make a decision, you need to hear me out on this.” Kurt pauses. He tugs on his shirt sleeve. “There are several points I wish to address.”

“Do you have a handout?” laughs Devi.

Kurt ghosts her a smile, slightly grudgingly. “I considered it,” he says. “But dismissed the idea.” When he imagined this in his head, he was standing. He stands. Wes nods. It might be approving.

“Devi, Wes. This kid they’ve asked you to consider is fine. But both musically and dramatically we all know I can run rings around him. So we have to conclude that this is not about talent, this is about ticket sales.

“Now Cole is a newly famous name. And perhaps initially that will garner attention. But at some point he will bow out, and ticket sales will drop. Because, and this is my second point, the critics will not get behind the show with him. If you go with Cole, or any half-famous kid, the music will need to be transposed.”

Wes says, “You know Blaine can transpose this stuff in his sleep.”

“Sure. But transposition will dilute the effectiveness of the role. And there’s more to it than that. I am unusual. I won’t deny that sometimes it has felt like a weakness. But now, and particularly in this role, it’s a strength. I’m not about to get all “I am what I am” on you, though I could, but you need someone distinctive to play David. David gives a particular impression. He was written with a distinctive voice in mind. Without that the whole show is less.”

Wes shifts in his chair uncomfortably. Kurt takes that as a good sign. Wes is unusually risk-averse for someone in the theater.

“It’s a risk,” says Wes tentatively.

“Yes. It is a risk,” says Kurt. “But I'd say this is the time for taking a risk. We are young. This is the biggest thing either of you have worked on and . You want to get a reputation for producing and directing something exceptional. This is the moment you need to take a risk.”

Devi looks at Wes, who nods slowly. 

“Okay,” she says. “We’re with you.”

“I assume you have a plan of some sort,” says Wes.

Kurt holds himself still though his insides are leaping. “We have thirty minutes for this staging on Wednesday,” he says. “Between us I am confident we can convince the investors that this is what’s best for the show.”

Back in the rehearsal room, Kurt turns a neat pirouette in front of the mirror. Step one was an unequivocal success. He pulls out his phone and texts Rachel and Santana, then Blaine.

Kurt: So far so good. Thanks to both my best girls.

Kurt: Can’t wait to see you. I love you. Xx

**

Blaine looks up at the theater doorway. It looks different during the day – slightly less polished. There’s a poster for the show extending down one outer wall. On it Kurt and Elisha are frozen in time - beautiful as David and Jonathan. Blaine’s breath catches and his eyes sting. It’s always a thrill to see this tangible fruit of his work as he steps inside. Today the thrill is bittersweet.

There are only a couple of weeks before he’ll be leaving for New York. Blaine’s given notice at his apartment. He’s spent some of the morning going through the furniture that can be sold and putting it up on Craigslist.

The rest he spent in a coffee shop, ostensibly writing but actually watching San Francisco travel past. He loves it here - loves the crooked streets, the quirky venues, the moderate weather, the ever-present rainbow flags. But he knows he’ll love living in New York, the center of the theater world. He’ll love the constant movement, the energy and ambition, the knowledge that everything can be extraordinary. And Kurt, of course.

He has some ideas, though. He built the show and this team. Surely together they can resolve this. 

On his way into the theater, Wes catches his arm. “We spoke with Kurt,” he says, smiling. “Devi and I. We’re backing him all the way.”

Blaine blinks.

“For the staging. With Bevin and the other investors?” Wes says. “I’m willing to risk it. I think we can do this.”

Blaine nods stupidly.

“Kurt convinced us. I’m pulling together some numbers. And he is going to blow them out of the water,” says Wes. He frowns. “You okay, Blaine?”

“Absolutely.” Blaine smiles. If there’s anything he knows how to do, it’s fake a smile. “Do you know where Kurt is?”

“Blue rehearsal room,” says Wes. “With some of the cast.”

Blaine heads for the room. Outside he pauses for a fraction, then opens the door. A group of guys are reworking a dance sequence. Kurt is dressed for his first scene in the matinee, white t-shirt and bare feet. Blaine waits until a pause in the action.

“Kurt,” he says.

“Blaine!” says Kurt. His face lights up.

“Can I grab you for a moment?” says Blaine.

Kurt glances around the room and shrugs his apologies, then follows Blaine down the hall to a tiny back room.

“Is this a sexy kind of interlude,” Kurt asks teasingly. He looks at Blaine’s face and his smile falls away. “Blaine?”

The words feel stiff in Blaine’s mouth. He hates fighting. He hates fighting with Kurt. “Kurt. You went behind my back.”

Kurt stares at him. Blaine’s whole world feels like it narrows to this, just his anger and Kurt’s astonished face.

“You had a meeting with Wes and Devi,” Blaine says.

“I- Blaine. Yes, I spoke to people! You weren’t there. But that doesn’t mean I went behind your back.”

Blaine keeps his voice low. “You spoke with my partners about the future of the show, Kurt. You didn’t warn me, you intentionally avoided having me there. You lied about what you were doing.”

“I- I didn’t lie.”

Blaine hates the powerlessness of arguing with Kurt. He always feels like he has everything wrong, somehow. But this is true. “You told me you were practicing this morning.”

They look at one another across the tiny space.

Blaine tries again. “Kurt, you know you went to Devi and Wes behind my back. You had to know it would hurt me.”

Kurt is still for a moment. “I did practice.” He says slowly. “I didn’t lie. But- I didn’t…The thing is, this is about **my** role in this show, Blaine. This role is important to me. It’s my career on the line here. I had to fight for it.”

Blaine focuses on one thing. “I should have been there.”

“If you’d been there it would have been about **us**. I needed this fight to be about me.”

“You didn’t tell me anything,” says Blaine. He’s frustrated when his voice shakes. “I wanted to help.”

They stand for a moment, just their breath between them. The theater is quiet beyond the door and time seems to stretch endlessly.

“You don’t need to rescue me, Blaine,” says Kurt eventually. His voice is low.

Blaine’s heart skitters. He rushes the words in an attempt to make it clear to Kurt. “What’s the point, though?” he says. “What’s the point of loving you so much, what’s the point of aching for you and wanting to catch you every time you fall. It doesn’t mean much if you won’t tell me anything. I can’t even help you.”

Outside the stage manager starts shouting about places and warm ups. Blaine blinks.

“I need to get out there or someone will have a convulsion,” says Kurt. “But Blaine. Please.”

“I’ll see you when the performance is over,” Blaine says.

“We need to - we’ll take a cab to Benji’s show.”

Blaine presses his lips together. He nods mutely. He wonders if Kurt thinks he’s done anything wrong here. He wonders if Kurt has. 

Kurt stops at the door and turns back. “I love you,” he says. There’s a wariness to it and Blaine doesn’t want that either.

“I love you, too” he says. They’re moving to New York in two weeks. It feels like an avalanche has hit him. But not loving Kurt was never even a consideration.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’ve been together, this time around, for four weeks. It’s still new, but it’s Blaine and Blaine has always looked like Kurt’s forever. Even when Kurt couldn’t bear to think about him.

The matinee audience is quieter than the evening crowd, but their applause is still disarming. Kurt soaks it in for a breathless moment, and beckons to Blaine, who made this all possible. He joins the cast from the wings.

Under the stage lights, Blaine’s smile is as blinding and perfect as ever. Kurt smiles too. He can’t help it. 

They’ve been together, this time around, for four weeks. It’s still new, but it’s Blaine and Blaine has always looked like Kurt’s forever. Even when Kurt couldn’t bear to think about him. As much as he tries to contain it, as complicated as even this can be, he loves Blaine so much it hurts. At its best there are a hundred dazzling years of bravery and holding hands stretching ahead of them, a hundred years of forgetting the rest of the world for the joy of each other’s touch. And then remembering the rest of the world and facing it together. There are a hundred years feeling safe and loved and making history with this man. 

But it’s been four weeks, and Kurt already feels like he’s messing it up. It tugs on his heart - the ways he is hurting Blaine who loves him so brightly and only wants to save him, and write for him, and bring him new music. 

They need to talk.

Backstage, he entertains the notion of missing the drag awards for about thirty seconds. But there’s no evening show on a Sunday and Adam and Benji are expecting them. Tonight is important to them. They’re his friends. And he and Blaine will be fine. 

He changes his clothes, tugging on some liquid black pants and lacing his boots as quickly as possible. He pulls on a black lace shirt and turns to fix his hair. It’s the biggest night in drag; he can be as flamboyant as he’d like.

Blaine is dressed and waiting, leaning adorably against a wall as the crew and cast move around him.

“Hi,” says Kurt. He feels almost shy under Blaine’s gaze. “Let me look at you.” Blaine does a turn. He looks debonair in immaculately fitted pants with a bright plum shirt and patterned bow tie. “I haven’t seen you in one of these for a while,” Kurt says fingering the bow tie.

Blaine smiles faintly. “Except at the opening.”

“That was formal attire, and it was amazing. But this is different. I like it.”

Blaine nods and murmurs, “Thank you.”

Kurt touches his arm, tentatively. “I know we aren’t on the same page, Blaine, and I want to get there, I do,” he says. “But Benji and Adam came to see our show and I don’t want to miss theirs.” He breaks off.

“We have to go,” says Blaine. “It’s important, I know. And I want to. Tonight I really just want to have fun with my boyfriend.”

“That’s still me, right?” says Kurt.

Blaine leans in to kiss him, takes his face in his hands. “That’s still you. We’d better hurry. We don’t want to miss any of it.”

In the cab, Kurt watches Blaine’s silhouette. Blaine looks out the window and holds Kurt’s hand.

The venue is decked out in vivid color and light. There are ridiculous balloon sculptures and a host of tall glittery tables with shiny red bar stools. It’s both tacky and beautiful.

Adam stands up to wave them toward a table at the front. He’s dressed in a slim fit gray-green suit but he’s accessorized with a collection of hipster bracelets and a yellow ascot. He looks good and absurdly himself. He’s sitting with a couple of guys, one in a short kilt in a nod to McQueen, the other with high intensity David Bowie make-up. Adam pours champagne for Kurt and Blaine. There’s barely time for introductions before Benji appears on stage as Farren Heit, carried by a crew of half-naked dancers.

When Farren Heit’s number is over, Blaine shifts his stool closer to Kurt’s. “I’ll get another bottle,” he murmurs in Kurt’s ear.

Kurt meets his eyes for a golden moment. They haven’t resolved anything, really. Blaine still feels closed out and Kurt still feels frustrated. But it’s Blaine and Blaine has always dreamed of being the hero. Another time and place and Kurt would love that about him. Even when it annoys Kurt, it’s probably not about to change.

He reaches a hand to Blaine’s face and kisses him before he goes. Kurt keeps his eyes on him as he walks toward the bar. His butt is adorable in those pants. When Kurt looks back to the table Adam is smiling at him, his eyes full of laughter. Kurt blushes. They don’t have anything answered, but he’s had a glass of champagne and he feels indulged and happy.

Kurt and Blaine don’t really know the people who are part of the drag scene. The winners are just names to them, so the show itself feels a little long. But Farren Heit is effortlessly charming, funny without being cruel, and the music and performances are fabulous. The whole time, Blaine’s hand is on Kurt, his fingers tangled with Kurt’s or tracing patterns up his thigh on the pants he’ll need to peel off later.

There’s something riotously freeing about sitting in a room full of drag artists and sequins. It doesn’t matter that Kurt knows precisely three people in the room. He’s here. He feels like he’s among friends.

**

They’re invited to the after party. Everybody is. It’s in a spacious mod style bar across the road from the theater.

Blaine knows he looks good. He’s enjoyed having Kurt’s eyes, dark and hot, on him. But he feels almost invisible here among the women in three piece suits and carefully penciled moustaches and the men in gabardine and sequins.

He leans against a mirrored pillar. Kurt glides in from the coat check, eyes combing the room. He’s interrupted by a guy in electric blue satin who’s obviously taken with Kurt’s shirt. It’s no wonder. Blaine tips his head and watches.

Adam interrupts his thoughts. “There we go - it’s official. You and I both have boys everybody loves but we adore the most.” Blaine smiles a little. He likes Adam, of course, but he is not certain how Adam sees Blaine. Adam takes a drink and continues. “Someone I know just walked in and I think you and Kurt should certainly meet her. Round him up for me?”

“Okay.”

Adam walks across to hug a woman built on Amazonian lines. Just what Blaine needs, another behemoth.

He heads over to extract Kurt from blue satin guy and is amused by the man’s quickly disguised irritation. 

“Adam has someone we need to meet,” he says as they go. 

Adam reaches out an arm to include them in his conversation. "Kurt, Blaine, this is Kenna Kirsch.”

Blaine reaches to shake hands. “Ms. Kirsch,” he says. His voice wavers a little. Kenna Kirsch is a critic for the New York Times and the president of the New York Drama Critics’ Circle. Everyone in the theater world knows who she is. 

“Call me Kenna,” she answers shaking his hand. Her grip is dry and firm “You’re Blaine?”

“Yes, ma’am. I am.”

“Kenna,” she says again immediately. “Definitely not ma’am.” She turns to Kurt. “Then you must be Kurt.”

“I am,” says Kurt. “I’m also an admirer. I suspect we both are given that Blaine can hardly breathe.”

Kenna gives a quick flicker of a smile.

Adam says, “I’m glad you came, Kenna love. These chaps have put together a remarkable musical.” Blaine holds his breath.

“Is that right?” She sounds dubious.

Blaine nods as Adam says, “It is.” He looks at her face and grins. “Kenna, have I ever led you astray?” She goes to answer him and he interrupts, holding up a hand and laughing. “Apart from that one time. That was five years ago, Ken. All I can say is this is a wonderful show. Blaine wrote it. Kurt’s the lead. One day these boys will be world-renowned, I’m confident of it.”

“We’re very proud of the show,” says Kurt. “The first time I read it I knew it was something different.”

Kenna eyes Kurt. “You use that counter tenor range in this show?” she asks Kurt.

“Yes, it’s an unusual role.”

“Range?”

“A2 to B5”

She raises her eyebrows. “What’s the part, Oberon? Peter Pan?”

Kurt looks at her coolly and Blaine is immeasurably proud to be standing alongside him. “King David.” 

Kenna nods slowly. “Right. Yes. I’ve heard a trickle of buzz about this.”

Adam is smiling a little as he says, “You can make it more than a trickle, Ken.”

She sighs at him. “I might have time. You can find me a decent seat Tuesday night?”

“Absolutely we can,” says Blaine and she nods approval even though she had never expected anything else. 

“Adam and Benji can come with me,” she says expecting no argument.

**

Later Blaine’s at the bar alone. Kurt is caught up in conversation with Farren Heit and a couple of the other drag queens. There’s a burst of bright laughter from them. 

“Mind if I sit?” asks Adam.

“Of course.” Blaine smiles. He orders drinks from the flustered young bartender.

When he pushes Adam’s drink across, Adam’s eyes are on Farren Heit.

“She was superb tonight,” Blaine says.

Adam looks at him with a small smile. “Farren? She always is.”

“How do you know Kenna Kirsch?” Blaine asks. “And really, thank you. If she comes it will be a huge coup.”

“She’ll come,” says Adam. “She’s a cantankerous bird, but reliable. I met her when I started up an alternative news and review space at NYADA. The NYADA publications were sadly behind the times. Kenna was a huge help - half mentor, half contributor.”

“Kurt didn’t know her?”

“She’d have been gone by the time he started,” Adam says. His voice is low in the loud room as he goes on. “I talked with Kurt earlier on. He told me about the role of David. That it could go to someone else for the Broadway run.”

Blaine’s feeling raw about it. He doesn’t know if he can speak with Adam, of all people.

“It’s not decided yet, but yes.”

“Heartbreaking,” says Adam. “For both of you.”

“Yeah,” says Blaine.

“But not set in stone.”

Blaine nods. He feels the tears prickle behind his eyes. He wants to change the topic.

“You and Kurt met at NYADA, right?”

Adam tips his head and looks at him carefully. “You haven’t heard the story?”

He hasn’t heard many of Kurt’s stories from their years apart. There will come a time for conversations about roles won and lost and boyfriends past, but so far it feels like their limited time alone needs to be spent on themselves, if not in bed.

“Not yet,” Blaine says.

“The first time I saw him he performed at NYADA’s Winter Showcase. It was rather an absorbing version of “Being Alive”. You know the song?”

Blaine can imagine Kurt singing, all the emotion right there for the world to experience. “Yes.”

“He was formidable. Extraordinary. It got him into the school. And when I saw him later, I approached him for my glee club.”

Blaine nods.

“But I also approached for me, uh, personally. I was fairly chuffed when he asked me out a bit later. You knew we dated?”

“Yes. Yeah.” He’s not above jealousy, still, but he’s sort of glad that Kurt dated Adam if he had to date anyone. Not that it was Blaine’s business at the time. “How long were you together?”

“A year,” says Adam. “Almost. It wasn’t an acrimonious ending but I-” he pauses. “I would have stayed longer. It all came good, though. What’s past is past.” He takes a drink. “And my present is right over there talking with yours.” He nods toward Farren and Kurt. Farren waves and Kurt turns and tilts his head to smile. Blaine smiles back. When he turns to looks at Adam again he feels a flash of recognition. They are not unalike. “I am fortunate to have them both in my life.”

Blaine says, quietly, “You were in love with him.”

Adam nods. “I was that.”

“Was he in love with you?”

Adam looks at him closely. “I’m not certain that’s a question you should be asking me. It might not be particularly fair on him or on me if I answer.”

Blaine looks down at the table. “Sorry. Sorry.” He looks up. Adam takes a mouthful of his cocktail.

“Maybe he was a little,” says Adam. “Maybe a little. You were always first and last with him.”

Blaine looks across the room again. He meets Kurt’s glance. Kurt’s are bright and it’s just for him. Blaine has never been able to do anything but love him. It’s definitely time to head home.

**

Kurt opens his front door and drags Blaine inside. There are no lights on in his house. He’s pretty sure everyone is out, but it’s late so he leaves everything in darkness. 

Blaine pulls him close and kisses him before they make it to the staircase. Alcohol and perhaps also their conflict, has made him sweetly handsy. With Blaine touching him everywhere, Kurt feels lax and malleable. He wants to give Blaine every single thing.

There’s a moment when it occurs to Kurt that they might not even make it into his bedroom. They’re halfway up the stairs, distracted by each other’s mouths and eyes and bodies.

“I want you. God, Kurt. So much,” Blaine says, hushed.

Kurt presses Blaine’s back to the staircase wall. It’s gorgeous - heady and rushed. Blaine’s mouth is soft, suckling on his neck. His hands are halfway down Kurt’s pants already. Kurt thrusts against Blaine and firmly moves Blaine up another step. When Kurt pushes his thigh between Blaine’s legs he can feel Blaine’s cock, thick and achingly hard under his clothes. Kurt’s hips rock forward almost involuntarily. He’s briefly tempted to just rut against Blaine on the staircase until they both come.  
He pulls his body back a little, looks upwards and takes a calming breath.

“Are you sober enough to fuck me?” he asks.

Blaine nods eagerly, his lips lush from kissing and his eyes wide with appeal. Kurt’s brain clouds. They make it up the stairs, stumbling a little through his bedroom door.

Kurt strips and lies back on the bed, watching Blaine above him. It’s liquid and sexy. Everything is easy, all skin on yielding skin. He wraps his legs around Blaine, and sinks into the bed, gasping against Blaine’s lips. Blaine thrusts and thrusts inside. Kurt feels his body opening up. As Blaine moves deeper, the air is pushed out of Kurt in soft breathy puffs. He rolls his hips. It’s like melting, coming together with this boy who is all heart, eyes and compact mobile muscle. Kurt gives himself up to it over and over.

**


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"But, Blaine, I want to have this part because I am the best person for the role. And when I get it back, it has to be because I deserved it, not because you and I are-.”_

In the morning they get breakfast at Plow in Portrero Hill. The room is well-lit and noisy around them. Blaine slices up his omelette with care and eyes Kurt’s ricotta pomegranate pancakes through slightly tired eyes. More accurately, he eyes Kurt nibbling at pomegranate seeds and licking powdered sugar from his fingers. When Kurt catches him looking, Blaine colors and looks at the table. He has vivid and recent knowledge of the pleasure Kurt’s mouth and fingers and nimble mind can bring. 

“You can have some,” says Kurt sweetly, “if you like.” Blaine sighs a little, mostly with happiness. Sharing pancakes is akin to a lifelong commitment for Kurt.

A waiter brings their second coffees. Blaine nods his thanks. As he sips he meets Kurt’s eyes. There’s a long, still moment between them.

“We should talk,” says Kurt. He doesn’t look particularly enthusiastic about the idea. But of all things, Kurt is brave. He has never seen much value in delaying the inevitable hard stuff.

Blaine releases his breath slowly. “We should,” he says.

“Blaine, I couldn’t ask you to convince Wes and Devi to back me,” says Kurt. He leans forward across the table. His voice is low and rushed as though he desperately wants Blaine to understand. “I couldn’t ask you to resolve this for me.”

Blaine says, “But I would have done it. Kurt, I love you. I’ll always have your back.” It’s the kind of thing that is self-evident: Blaine loves Kurt, and love means action.

“But that’s what I mean.” The words burst from Kurt. “I don’t want this to be about you having my back. I don’t want this to be about love, Blaine.” 

It aches to hear it. If this isn’t about love-

Kurt looks at him and his face softens. He lowers his voice. “I know, I know you. Everything is about love. It’s a many splendored thing. It’s all we need. And that’s one of the ways you are extraordinary, it’s one of the reasons you are already changing the world. But, Blaine, I want to have this part because I am the best person for the role. And when I get it back, it has to be because I deserved it, not because you and I are-.”

Blaine is still for a long time. This whole conversation stings and he doesn’t know what Kurt is trying to say.

“Not because we’re fucking?” he asks and although he speaks quietly it feels brutal on his lips.

“Not because we’re in love.” Kurt’s voice is gentle.

Blaine thinks about the ways Kurt has had to fight, the times he has learned that even with people beside him he can only do things alone. “Okay,” he says at last.

They sit quietly, sizing up the moment. He knows that Kurt loves him and he has never needed Kurt to rescue him, except that there is a kind of escape in the ways that Kurt sees and knows him. He’s not sure he has it in him to love without also wanting to save Kurt.

Eventually he says, “But Kurt. You don’t have to do the hard things all by yourself.”

Kurt says, “I had Rachel. And Santana.”

“I wish you thought that you had me.”

“Oh,” says Kurt. “Blaine. God. I always knew that I had you.” He holds Blaine’s hand and squeezes it across the table. “Always.” Blaine squeezes back. It doesn’t mean much, in a way, but it means everything too.

“We told the first car guy we’d meet him at eleven,” says Kurt, glancing at his phone. “We’d better go and kick some tires.”

Blaine is glad Kurt doesn’t ask if all their plans for his move and their trip are still in place. Blaine doesn’t question that, there’s no world in which this is not forever and forever starts now, forever started the moment he had Kurt’s heart again. Still it’s reassuring that Kurt doesn’t question it either.

 

** 

That afternoon they spread a map of the United States out on Blaine’s bed. Kurt pulls off his boots and lies down to look at it. His feet ache after a day walking San Francisco’s streets. The car fairies were smiling on them, though, and they made a successful purchase.

“We can call the car Bryan,” says Blaine from the doorway, “After Bryan Ferry.”

Kurt is shocked “Blaine! She is not a Bryan. I’d know. I spent twenty minutes under her hood.

“Yes. Yes, you did, and honestly it was incredibly hot.”

Kurt smiles. At least there are some things he can feel complacent about. “I know. My unexpected skill sets come in handy sometimes. And hopefully my JP Maddox shirt isn’t completely ruined.”

“Worth it,” says Blaine under his breath.

Kurt gasps. “You take that back, Blaine Anderson.”

Blaine grins. “What’s her name then?”

Kurt thinks for a moment. “Judy,” he says. “After all, she’s taking us home.”

Blaine lies down beside Kurt, kissing his shoulder on the way through. He hands Kurt colored flags and turns back to the map. Kurt plants a flag on Lima, Ohio.

“Dad and Carole will be thrilled to see you,” he says. “Finn too.” He’s looking forward to that stop. The whole family together. “And we’ll stop at your home too?” He doesn’t intend to sound hesitant.

“It would be a pretty big statement not to stop,” says Blaine. Kurt presses his lips together around questions that can be answered later, like will that be okay? and will you want me to go with you?

“How are things are with them?” he says finally.

“Time for that another day,” says Blaine. “Things are mostly fine. Now. This trip.”

They lean over the map, heads close together, and debate routes and essential stops.

“Will Judy make it the whole way?” says Blaine.

“Believe me, Judy will be absolutely fine.”

“I can’t wait,” says Blaine. “I know it’s not your thing but you and me and all that time alone. And the whole of the United States before us? It sounds incredible.”

Kurt rolls onto his side to look at Blaine directly. “Okay,” he says. Honestly he’s nervous about snakes and coyotes and tiny towns filled with people who are nothing like them and everything like some of the animals he grew up with. He wants to see it how Blaine sees it. “Sell me on this.”

“Which part? The scenery? The freedom? No timetables? Driving for hours with my hand in your lap and a song on our lips?”

“All of that,” says Kurt, somewhere between amused and charmed.

Blaine fixes his gaze on Kurt’s. “I have this picture in my head of you and me lying out on a blanket under the stars. We’ve just had incredible sex.”

“On a blanket? I don’t think so.”

“Hush”, says Blaine, “this is my fantasy.”

Kurt hums, entertained. “Your fantasy needs to bring insect repellent. Matches too, so we can start a fire and scare away bears.”  
“Okay, I’ll make a note,” Blaine says and he’s so sweet and ridiculous.

Kurt kisses him. “Go on.” He smiles, feeling warm and indulgent and moves closer. He breathes slowly against Blaine.

“There’s no one around, for miles. But there’s this wide star-studded sky and black hills off in the distance and just you and me in all the world.”

“Which sounds petrifying,” says Kurt kissing under his jaw with intent for a second. Then Kurt pulls away and rolls onto his back “But I’ll admit it also sounds sort of perfect.” He speaks to the ceiling. “So, we’re there by ourselves… ah… I know you, you’re planning what we sing.” He lifts his voice a little, lets it out of him clear and light. “Somewhere out there beneath the pale moonlight” he starts. “Someone thinking of me and loving me tonight.”

Blaine laughs under his breath. “I was thinking of some Sting. You’ll forget the sun in his jealous sky as we lie in fields of gold…”

It’s terrifying and beautiful, being known so well. “My dreams have evolved, Blaine Warbler,” Kurt says. But lying next to Blaine he’s not really sure they have. He sits up and folds the map neatly away.

Blaine starts singing again. His voice sweet and low. “More than this, you know there’s nothing more than this…”

Kurt lets the song run over him. Blaine’s voice is gorgeous as ever. It fills his heart. Whatever he loses, whatever Blaine wins, they will have this.

**

Adam edges back into his seat between Kenna and Benji. The room is full of chatter, electric with the buzz of a talked about show. Adam feels giddy and proud. Kenna grunts irritably as he moves past her. She has her notebook out and is muttering to herself and writing feverishly. Adam can’t imagine what she could have to say before the show even begins. He assumes she’s describing the curtains, which are deep red, and the well-worn stage boards and perhaps the anachronistic ancient Greek style fresco paneling above. Benji rolls his eyes at her eloquently. Adam hands him a drink and raises his eyebrows. They’ve attended enough shows alongside Kenna to know she’ll be unbearable. Still, it’s kind of her to come. Adam is gratified that he can bring someone of her stature to assist Kurt.

She will be utterly frank, though. She is a critic first, and a judicious one, regardless of the connection. He’s glad he has seen the show, otherwise he’d be more anxious than he is.

The lights dim and the chatter drops away. When the curtains rise, Kurt is on the stage. That is, not Kurt, but the shepherd boy David with his bare feet and clear young voice. The stage is undressed and the song is intentionally insubstantial, requiring Kurt to fill the room with just a soft voice and curiously mesmerizing presence. Nevertheless the audience is completely still. Even people who have never fancied Kurt are engrossed. Kenna’s pen is poised over the page in the half dark. Then she lowers it and listens. Adam smiles to himself.

The show continues, two beautiful oblivious men, a heartbroken woman, a jealous father; love bleeds into war; hip hop beats beside pop.

Adam watches and sees moments he missed before. He hadn’t focused on Michal, but when she sings, “Even angels have their wicked schemes and you take that to new extremes. But you’ll always be my hero” he feels it in his bones.

But then David sings, to Jonathan, “You came home for the endless summer,” and they are so undeniably in love. Adam reaches out and finds Benji’s hand.

After the show, Kenna heads straight to her hotel. “Deadlines, boys,” she says. She never gives an opinion on the night of the show. This time it’s more bothersome than usual.

Adam leans against Benji in the foyer. It’s their last night in San Francisco. “Home and bed, or do we wait for the toast of the town?” Adam asks.

“We can pull through and say goodbye to Kurt,” says Benji. Adam is grateful for his sweetness.

Kurt makes it out in twenty minutes and sits next to them at the bar. “I can’t stay,” he says. “We’ve got this staging tomorrow and I need to be perfect.”

“You will be, doll,” says Benji and Kurt smiles brightly across at him.

“You are both too good,” Kurt says. “Thank you for bringing Kenna. She’s not here?”

“Writing deadlines,” says Adam and Kurt raises his eyebrows. “I don’t know anything more. But I can’t see how she won’t say something good.”

“It’s Kenna Kirsch,” says Kurt. “I don’t expect unalloyed praise.” He pauses for a moment, obviously turning it over in his mind. “That is terrifying. But I can’t let myself worry about it.”

Adam nods. “No, you take yourself home with that man of yours.”

Kurt leans his chin into his hand. They’re silent for a moment. Benji rests his knee against Adam’s.

“I love this role too much,” Kurt says. “And they’re headed for a Broadway opening. It’s every dream I’ve ever had. I don’t know how I’m going to give it up.” He looks perilously young and apprehensive. 

“All the more reason to fight to keep it. You haven’t lost yet, Kurt,” says Adam.

“These investors are investing to make money. And it’s Blaine’s show. I do want it to be successful, I really do. So maybe I’m wrong. Maybe this other kid is best way for them to have success.”

“Really?” says Adam. “You’re back to that - thinking you don’t deserve something you have made your own?”

“Oh,” says Kurt. “No, I guess not.”

“I should hope not. I thought I’d drilled that out of you back at NYADA.”

“Got it,” says Kurt.

“Don’t worry,” says Benji. “He does the same thing to me. It’s like he’s writing a book: Seven Steps to Boosting Your Fragile Ego.”

“My ego isn’t fragile,” says Kurt. “There are just a surprising number of obstacles which seem to be placed in the way of my inevitable success.”

“You’re twenty-five,” says Adam. “I think you’re going to be fine. I just don’t want you to be your own obstacle.”

Kurt nods slowly and presses his lips together. “Understood,” he says, meeting Adam’s eyes.

He glances up and Adam follows his gaze as Blaine steps into the bar. He looks drained and somehow still perfectly graceful and pulled together.

“Here’s your ride,” says Benji.

Blaine walks over and smiles at them. His eyes land on Kurt and remain there for a fraction.

“Hey Adam, Benji. Again, thank you so much. I hope you know how we appreciate your input.”

“Big day tomorrow,” says Adam. “You’re taking this one home?” He nods toward Kurt.

“That’s my hope,” says Blaine and Kurt smiles at him tiredly. Blaine’s eyes soften. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”

“That’s our cue too,” says Benji.

“This is goodbye?” asks Kurt.

“Until we see you in New York,” says Adam. They hug all round. Then Benji takes Adam’s hand and Adam follows him to a cab.

**

Kenna’s article is in the New York Times the next morning. Devi has it attached to a message to Blaine before he’s even awake. Her accompanying note reads, “check this out!!”. Even with two exclamation points that is less than revealing. Blaine considers Kurt, who has woken beside him, blinking and disheveled and gorgeous.

“Kenna’s article,” he says.

Kurt’s eyes widen. It’s almost comical. “Already?” he chokes. Blaine understands. Kenna Kirsch has a strong voice in the theater world. She is also known to be difficult critic to win over. 

“Mmm. Afraid so,” says Blaine. He pulls it up on his tablet and shifts closer to Kurt so they can both read. 

The review of their show is a sidebar to a broader article about groundbreaking regional theater. 

“Do you want to read the review first, or the article?” asks Blaine.

“Review,” says Kurt firmly. “That’ll definitely have us in it.”

Blaine reads with Kurt pressed to his side. The review is more than heartening. Kenna is positive about the staging, somewhat ambivalent about the costuming and set, but seems utterly absorbed by the story and the music. It reads, “This show is a consummate example of local theater, illustrative of the fine work that we are seeing from regional centers and demonstrating the freedom that is allowed playwrights and librettists who produce their work on a smaller stage.” Blaine feels a bubbling of pride.

Best of all, she writes about Kurt and the rest of the cast with what feels like exhilaration. 

Blaine reads aloud. “Relative unknown Kurt Hummel is well cast as the eponymous David. His voice is uncommonly lovely, but it is the way he inhabits this challenging character that electrifies. Before our eyes, he grows from beguiling child to potent king.” Blaine runs his hand up Kurt’s arm beside him. He could burst with pride.

“Go on,” prompts Kurt. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing this.”

Blaine grins and continues. “Mr. Hummel brings the boy’s young love and the king’s eventual pain to the audience and we live those moments with him. This is not a tragic character - he is not ultimately a man of regret although he has much responsibility for his own loss - but his heartbreak is undeniable and deftly portrayed.

“There are light moments, especially as the teenaged shepherd boy weaves his spell over the princely Jonathan. But the story is primarily a poignant one. Mr. Hummel’s accomplishment in this key role is bringing to life the multiple facets of a complex child, and a more complex man. In lesser hands we would smile less and we would certainly cry less.”

Kurt’s hand is pressed against his chest. “Oh god. That’s it. I can die happy now,” he breathes.

Blaine laughs quietly and kisses the top of Kurt’s head. “I’d prefer you stayed around,” he says. 

Kurt says, “I have to send this to Rachel.” 

Blaine laughs again and reads a final section. “I, for one, am looking forward to seeing Mr. Hummel’s performance again, when the show makes its inevitable move to Broadway.”

“Right,” says Kurt. “Well that is certainly direct. And… well I couldn’t have asked for more, but I have to wonder what Bevin will think about that.”

“Yes,” says Blaine, frowning a little.

Kurt says, “I don’t- You know I love the show. It’s not my intention to-”

“You are not going to apologise for being extraordinary,” says Blaine. 

“No, I suppose I’m not,” says Kurt, and there’s something playful in his tone though he looks concerned. 

A text message alert chirps on Blaine’s phone.

From Wes: Bevin wants to meet with us immediately. Or sooner.

Blaine winces. This is not going to be pretty. Kurt eyes him sympathetically.

“Do what you have to do,” he says. “I’m still basking in the glow of that review.”

Blaine nods. “I’m so far beyond proud of you.”

“Likewise,” says Kurt. “Because Blaine, don’t forget she loved your show. None of this would have happened without you.” They smile foolishly at one another. Then Kurt’s face shifts. “I’m also very glad that you’re the one heading to this meeting with Bevin.”

Blaine shakes his head a little, ruefully. His phone chirps again.

From Wes: And bring Kurt.

**


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Years ago you told me that a trophy didn’t matter._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to Corinna and the-multicorn. even more.

In the back seat of the cab, Kurt laces his fingers with Blaine’s. San Francisco moves past at a traffic-slow pace.

“Do you think they’ll cancel the staging this afternoon?” Blaine asks.

“I certainly hope not; I’ve spent hours strategizing over this,” says Kurt, trying for light. “I could’ve spent that time better. I could have been practicing. With you.” He raises his eyebrow and runs his thumb over Blaine’s hand.

Blaine doesn’t let himself be distracted. “If they do cancel it we’ll need a plan. To stop them. We can’t let them just abandon the show.” Kurt feels the tension in Blaine’s hand as he winds up.

“I don’t know that we have much control over that,” Kurt says. “They haven’t promised us anything.” It’s not that he doesn’t care about the show; it’s not that he’s not willing to fight for it the way Blaine is . But maybe he was less confident that it could all come true to begin with. “Blaine, this isn’t the only way to Broadway.”

“No, but the Broadway stage is your area of expertise and, as you eloquently pointed out, we haven’t exactly had scores of people with hundreds of thousands of dollars knocking at our door.”

“It takes years to make it there,” says Kurt. “Really, it always takes years. I believe this show will get there. We are absolutely on our way. But we need to expect these sorts of obstacles, and delay, and disappointment.”

Blaine looks at him. He shakes his head a little as though clearing it. “We’ll still make it,” he says. “Okay.” But as the cab pulls up at the theater he looks earnest and small. “Only, Kurt. I’m not sure what else I’m going to do until then.” He reaches for his wallet and pays the driver. They step onto the sidewalk.

Outside, Kurt stops Blaine with a hand on his arm. He has a lot to say, but little time. They’re wanted in the theater. 

“Years ago you told me that a trophy didn’t matter. Because we got each other out of this. And it’s true. You have me. I have you. That will always matter more than anything. But that doesn’t mean it’s everything we have. There’s this show. And there’s your next show. And the show after that. You’re always going to be creating something wonderful.” 

Blaine still looks concerned. Kurt takes both his hands. “And Blaine, you have to know that I am so proud to be with you while you do. We’re making art and life and music and, I don’t know, soon we’ll sing the perfect romantic song out into the Grand Canyon and some day one of us will open a show at the Lyric, and in between we’ll find a perfect apartment and all of it, every second of it, will be the two of us together.” Blaine grips his hands more tightly. “There’s really nothing they can take from us,” says Kurt. “Nothing that matters.”

They stand there, Blaine's eyes wide and brow furrowed. And, god, Kurt loves him. He thinks these are the ways he can have Blaine’s back, these are the ways he can save Blaine. 

Blaine’s smile is slow but it lights like sunrise over the sea. 

“Okay,” Blaine says. “Okay. Let’s do this thing.” Kurt follows him into the theater.

They can hear Bevin’s voice from half way up the hall. Kurt loathes raised voices, loathes the choice between striking back with cutting words and curling up into an invisible ball. This doesn’t mean he is by any means frightened. He squares his shoulders as Blaine opens the door. Wes is standing beside the desk, hands clasped at his back. Devi is seated, giving the impression of ease, but her fingers are tapping against one knee.

“Can I ask who is responsible for this piece?” Bevin says loudly, rounding on Blaine and Kurt.

“If you’re referring to the Times article, that would be Ms. Kenna Kirsch,” says Kurt. “Someone I assumed you were already familiar with.” 

Bevin frowns and his face reddens slightly.

Kurt opens his mouth to continue but Blaine touches his arm and says, affably, “Bevin, the way I see it, we should look at this review as an encouraging thing. It was positive. It affirmed what we are doing.”

“Indeed it did, and it was particularly glowing when it came to Mr. Hummel,” Bevin says tightly.

“It’s giving us excellent publicity,” continues Blaine. “Publicity we can utilize.” He nods with sincerity.

“Almost like it was by design.” 

“You cannot be suggesting that the senior New York Times drama critic-” begins Kurt.

“I’m suggesting nothing,” says Bevin and seems to deflate. “I’m telling you this. Cole Summers’ agent has indicated that scheduling conflicts and some vaguely worded concerns about the character will prevent him from pursuing the role of David. For whatever reason he has withdrawn his name from consideration.”

“Scared him off,” says Devi to Kurt. “That’s my boy.” 

Wes shushes her. Kurt looks to Blaine. He’s not sure whether he should be happy yet.

Wes turns to Bevin and asks the question that’s in Kurt’s mind. “What does this mean for us?”

Bevin sighs and sits heavily. “Look guys, in a way nothing has changed. There’s a staging this afternoon. Everyone is still coming. But you lot need to prove to the investors that producing this show at this time is a good risk. I assume you’ve put something together?”

“Of course we have,” says Devi. 

“I just don’t know if you can do it,” says Bevin.

Kurt is equally unsure. Of course he is. There are a hundred reasons these nameless investors could find for avoiding the work of an unknown playwright, an untested cast, an atypical lead. There are a hundred more reasons to avoid a gay tragedy set in ancient Israel.

Blaine looks across at Kurt. “We can,” he says. “Absolutely, we can.” And with Blaine’s vivid eyes on him, Kurt almost feels certain. 

**

Blaine shakes hands with each of the investors in turn. He smiles warmly when they show an interest in his music selections, or speak about seeing the recent revival of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, or mangle Elisha’s last name. This is one of the things at which he excels. “Thank you,” he says and, “I’m so glad to meet you,” and, “I think you’re going to enjoy it.” He carefully projects calm and assurance.

Before the cast appears he stands and introduces the show. He speaks, for a moment, about his inspiration and the overarching narrative. Devi introduces herself and the cast and today’s selection of songs with her usual engaging buoyancy. 

They’ve kept the staging simple, though they’re using the main stage. Just Kurt and Elisha and Vanessa, the three vital leads, and a small ensemble to demonstrate the way the space is filled. They’re not using a full band.

Of course, it starts with Kurt. It always starts with Kurt and his boyish vocals. Then the ensemble lifts the energy and Elisha and Kurt shift the mood and the music. Vanessa fills the theater with her huge, emotive voice. The staging finishes with Kurt, too - his eyes bright with unshed tears, his light tenor rich with emotion and breaking over the room.

Afterwards, Kurt looks dazed. 

"We did everything we could,” he says to Blaine. They are heading home to Blaine’s place after a quick sushi bar dinner with the others. 

“You were great,” says Blaine.

Kurt looks at him thoughtfully. “Yeah,” he says. “I think I was.”

Blaine reaches for his hand as they walk through the settling dark. “I love you,” he says feeling all the joy of it. He doesn’t need to say _whatever happens_. 

"I love you, too,” says Kurt and it’s easy now - like they’ve always known this, like there weren’t six whole years where they didn’t say it.

There’s no question of where they’ll end up.

Kurt has Blaine pressed naked into his mattress. He’s on his back and Kurt runs his hands between his thighs, spreading his legs wide. Blaine lets them fall as far apart as they will go. Consistent Pilates and calisthenics has ensured that is pretty far.

Kurt kneels between Blaine’s legs. He’s beautiful. His cock is hard and curves upwards, his body is slender and defined, his skin is flawless. Those clear, perceptive eyes narrow in thought as he leans over Blaine. Blaine’s heart races. His breath comes faster to catch up.

Kurt reaches out a lubed hand to wrap around Blaine’s cock. Blaine shudders and lifts his hips off the bed involuntarily, thrusts into Kurt’s fist. He almost can’t help it. He feels every bit the boy he was when they first touched one another.

That first time there was only the hush between them – wide-eyes and the faltering pant of their breathing. At least, until a stammered, “Is th-this okay?”, and a wordless nod in reply. Then they were gasping around one another’s names and repeating themselves, saying “yes” and “oh god” over and over. They came one after the other, embarrassingly fast but still unforgettably sweet. Afterwards they gazed into each other’s eyes, amazing and amazed. They ran their fingers over each other’s skin. It was still shy but so knowing. Everything was revealed. Everything mattered more. And for months afterwards Blaine’s mind was absorbed by the thought of Kurt’s touch.

It curls Blaine’s toes to remember it, and here in his bed it sings and shifts in his blood.

Kurt’s eyes are on his as his hand moves, his breathing uneven. He jerks rhythmically, palm wrapped slick and tight about Blaine. Everything builds inside. It’s a rolling wave of want. Blaine comes all in a rush, like he’s a teenager again, his hips bucking roughly against Kurt, come streaking over Kurt’s hand. He blushes and starts to murmur “Sorry, sorry.”

“God, Blaine,” says Kurt. “Don’t be sorry. That was- watching you was incredible.” His eyes are hot pools.

Kurt moves a hand lower between Blaine’s legs and pushes two fingers against his hole. Blaine’s body is relaxed and liquid. It’s easy to melt against Kurt’s fingers, easy to let him in. Kurt presses both fingers inside smoothly. The stretch is powerful but painless and somehow gratifying. Blaine moans into it, his urgent need sated but still wanting so much more.

Kurt bends past Blaine and reaches for a condom. His hips shift between Blaine’s legs, lifting them toward his waist and forcing them further apart. Blaine shifts his ass upwards, curling it off the bed. Then Kurt holds his own cock with one hand on its shaft and pushes inside Blaine. He supports his body above Blaine as well as he can and fixes Blaine with his eyes. 

Blaine can’t move. He feels frozen in place. His body is soft on the inside, exposed and hungering, but Kurt’s cock is hard as it pushes forward, and stills him entirely. 

For a tangled moment, Kurt holds still inside Blaine, their bodies fixed, their gazes and breathing meeting between them. Then Blaine can’t help but move, seeking more pleasure, seeking Kurt at his core. He shifts his hips to take more of Kurt inside. 

Kurt gasps his name. His expression is one of craving and relief. He bends his head to kiss Blaine’s lips and his hips thrust forward hard and fast, forcing his cock deeper inside Blaine. Blaine is filled up, feels Kurt unbearably far inside. He arches his back and then curls his body. He takes everything, opens up further and wider to every thrust. 

There aren’t enough words for the ways Blaine feels when his whole self is undone, just opened forever to Kurt. This will always break him apart.

Kurt cries out and shudders into Blaine. He slumps against him, sobbing a little, his breathing ragged against Blaine’s skin. His whole body trembles. Blaine turns his head and kisses Kurt’s neck and shoulders, tasting of sweat and home. He wraps his arms about Kurt and holds him close until he stops shaking. 

This will always piece him back together. 

**

In the morning Kurt wakes to Blaine’s soft eyes and warm skin. Blaine’s hands are tracing patterns across his chest. His body feels sweetly wrecked and sated, like nothing can ever hurt again. But something is weighing on Kurt’s mind.

“You’re not writing,” he says softly, as a question. The last few weeks he has seen Blaine open the laptop, sigh and close it again. “That’s why you’re anxious about what you’re going to do next.”

Blaine looks at him with eyes wide open. “Yeah,” he says. “Something like that.”

There’s a long pause. Kurt stretches to kiss Blaine. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Blaine sighs and sits up on the bed. He’s still naked and so lovely. “I don’t know that I can say anything you want to hear.”

“Okay.” Apprehension twists heavily in Kurt’s stomach. He sits too, leaning against the head of the bed. 

Blaine reaches out and holds both Kurt’s hands reassuringly in one of his. “No, it’s not that bad, it’s nothing- I can fix it.” He takes a breath. “I think the reason I’m not writing is because I can’t stop imagining you in every story. Particularly in this story. And then my brain freezes up because I know you don’t want to be there.”

Kurt thinks for a moment, eyes on their hands, then lifts his gaze. “That’s- Blaine. It’s not that I don’t want to be there. You’re an extraordinary writer and music director. Quite apart from the fact that I love you, I’d be crazy not to go along on this ride with you. And then there’s _The Little Prince_. I know I wasn’t immediately on board, but when you told me about it there wasn’t any way I could imagine that story without me. I’m honored that you want me.”

Blaine looks at him, struck.

Kurt continues. “I’m terrified though… I can’t just be your muse, Blaine. I can’t float around in tree houses wearing scarves and amazing sunglasses and waiting for you to invent a character for me. And then… and then it breaks my heart anyway because even a part that’s written for me can be taken away from me. I can’t do that to myself. And also I can’t do it to you. I don’t want to make it so you can only write when I’m there with you.” And I don’t want to hold you back, I don’t want you just to be writing for me because you’re in love with me.” He pauses, oddly wrung out.

“But that’s- not what I’m doing. That’s not what I’d want,” says Blaine . He frowns. “God Kurt. I - I honestly believe you are the brightest star in theater. It’s not because I love you, it’s because I’ve seen the things you bring to the audience, the emotional draw and your voice and your hard work. Sometimes up there you seem like a complete stranger to me. It’s amazing. And it’s confusing. But I always love your work. I love watching you, even when I feel like I’m watching someone who isn’t really you at all.”

Kurt sits forward and the sheets shift on his lap. He places a hand to his mouth.

Blaine continues. “But right now we just got back together. And I love you and you’re really hot, so it’s understandable that I see you in every word I write. But wanting to write you roles isn’t about locking you away. I want this to open doors for you. I want everyone in the universe to recognize you for the star you are. I want you to get Roger in _RENT_ and Freddie in _Chess_ and Jack in _Into the Woods_. I want people to go to the theater just to see you.”

There are tears in Kurt’s eyes. He wipes at them uselessly. “And you?”

“And me?” Blaine asks, reaching to wipe a tear from Kurt’s cheekbone with his thumb. His eyes are bright too.

“I’ve wondered. You’re a pretty extraordinary singer and actor yourself, Blaine. I love that you’re writing. It’s a whole different kind of creativity and I don’t know that I even have that in me. But are you going to perform again? Write yourself a role, or take on something someone else has written? I don’t think you need to give up one dream just because you’ve found another.”

Blaine stills. “I thought of taking on one of the Little Prince roles,” he says eventually. Kurt nods encouragingly. “It would be incredible to- I really love being on stage.”

Kurt puts his hand against Blaine’s chest for emphasis. “You are amazing on stage, Blaine Anderson. The idea of seeing you up there, your voice and all that joy-”

"I wouldn’t be able to direct though.”

“Maybe not. And then we can find another music director.” He pulls Blaine close to him and Blaine leans against his chest and rests his head. “So we’ll be like Johnny Cash and June Carter. Or... Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne.” 

“Or Beyoncé and Jay-Z,” says Blaine fondly. And before Kurt can say anything he goes on, “Of course, you get to be Beyoncé.” Kurt presses his lips against Blaine’s hair and his heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest. 

**


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It makes it easier to head out for what might be their final show, knowing that there’s this waiting for them in the quiet, everywhere they go together.

It’s their last full day in San Francisco. Kurt dries the dishes from lunch before packing them into the open box on the benchtop. He turns to consider the apartment. Most of Blaine’s stuff has been packed or sold. The couch and books and a Noguchi coffee table are on their way to New York. They’ve left a limited amount of silverware. The bed is made up on the floor.

It would’ve made sense to stay at Kurt’s these last two nights, but Kurt didn’t suggest it. Blaine is moving to New York with Kurt and this has been Blaine’s place for more than two years. Kurt knows Blaine and understands something of the way he says goodbye. It seems reasonable that he gets to enjoy his San Francisco home for every last possible moment.

This morning on the mattress on the floor, Kurt pressed his lips against Blaine’s shoulder blades, drew his fingers across compact muscles. He loves mornings this way, Blaine beautifully unravelled and warm with sleep as the gray morning light slants its way across his back. 

Now the light is bright gold and there are dust motes spinning in the air. Blaine is sitting cross-legged on the mattress with his laptop open and headphones on.

This apartment has become a retreat for Kurt too, in these few short weeks. The place is all bay windows, polished floorboards and Blaine in every corner. It’s felt a little like home. Here, Kurt’s never anything but welcome. When he wakes in Blaine’s bed he feels like he’s never been alone.

Tonight is the show’s last night in San Francisco. They’ll want to head over to the theater early, but Blaine is tapping away on his keyboard, obviously newly inspired, and Kurt is enjoying the undemanding company of someone who’s in the middle of his own things. In any case, Kurt doesn’t want to go yet. They don’t have an answer from the investors about heading to Broadway. Nothing’s decided. Kurt’s accustomed to the theater world. He tries not to expect certainty about anything. But although he might not feel the need to know everything right now, it’s going to be overwhelming to walk into the theater for their final show.

Kurt tips his head back to look at the ceiling and tries not to tear up.

Across the room Blaine takes off his headphones.

“Could you help me with this?” he asks.

There’s a consciousness to the request which Kurt wants to suppress right away. He blinks the tears away, steps across the room and kneels on the mattress beside Blaine. “Of course.”

Blaine turns the laptop around to face Kurt. “You know Feelin’ Good?” he asks.

“I do. You want me to sing it?” asks Kurt, scanning the music on screen.

“Yes, please. Just wait a second and I’ll get it cued up.” Blaine turns the laptop back and Kurt watches his fingers and eyes. “Okay. Take it from the beginning,” says Blaine. “The birds bit.”

Kurt pauses. “Mmm. Do you want the kind of slouching, open-ended feel of Nina Simone?”

Blaine’s face brightens. “That would be perfect,” he says. He’s clear-eyed and beaming like Kurt is a surprise to him, like Kurt has brought him something brand new. Kurt always wants to make Blaine look like that. 

Blaine plays a chord then starts the backing music. The accompaniment is brassy big band, an oscillating flow of sound. Kurt sings, letting himself lean into the song. “ _It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life. For me._ ”

Halfway through the song Blaine adds, “ _This is the end, hold your breath and count to ten._ ” It’s Skyfall - Adele and James Bond, and it adds a richness and a ridiculousness Kurt couldn’t have expected.

Kurt loves singing, loves all the ways he can use his voice to touch people. And he loves the way Blaine watches, bright with pride, when Kurt sings. But together, when Blaine lifts his voice with Kurt’s, it brings even this to another level. It fills Kurt‘s heart. They smile at one another irresistibly as they finish.

“You can break up the fifth and sixth lines,” Kurt suggests before they run through again.

Blaine nods. “True. _Let the sky fall, when it crumbles_ ,” he tries. “Then you sing the next section about the stars and the pines. And then: _We will stand tall._ ”

They try it again. And a third time. Kurt stands to allow better control in his low range. Blaine records it and they listen. 

“We’re getting somewhere,” says Blaine when they pause.

“We are,” says Kurt. “It’s wonderful.”

“Thank you,” says Blaine. Kurt knows it’s not just for the compliment. Blaine closes the laptop and stands. Suddenly Kurt has his arms full of this smiling boy he loves like fire and air and all of the fairy stories.

It makes it easier to head out for what might be their final show, knowing that there’s this waiting for them in the quiet, everywhere they go together.

**

The after party is at Glitterbox with its sparkling black concrete floor and huge spiral chandelier. Everyone comes.

Blaine leans against the bar and watches and his heart feels like it’s going to explode with pride. He started writing this musical two and a half years ago. Tonight the audience rose as one for a standing ovation. Tonight his friends, his colleagues, his first and last love, all made it perfect. He’s thrilled by what it’s become.

There’s a little dance floor among the tables and Elisha drags Kurt and Vanessa on to it for a creditable revision of Single Ladies. Kurt laughs and blushes and catches Blaine’s eye.

Carmody bellies up to the bar beside Blaine. “It’s been a thing of beauty, honey,” he says after ordering a tray full of Gin Fizzes. “I’m so glad to have had the experience. And I’m sad you two are leaving town.”

“Will I see you in New York?” They all know that the dance crew won’t be hauled across the country whatever happens, but Carmody is a lead and might get a look in.

“You never know,” says Carmody. “It depends on timing and who else they can line up. I’m not complaining, this show’s opened some doors I didn’t expect. So thank you.”

“No, thank you. Your work was incredible,” says Blaine sincerely. “I couldn’t have done it without you, and neither could Kurt.” 

Carmody laughs and pats Blaine’s shoulder. “You’re a catch, Blaine Anderson. It’s good to know you boys will take care of one another.” Blaine watches him as he takes the drinks over to some of the crew. 

He’s distracted by Kurt, heading over with Tina hot on his tail. This is not just closing night but also Blaine’s farewell to the city so they invited Tina and Tex and a few other friends along.

“I am so mad at you, Kurt Hummel,” says Tina as they reach Blaine.

Blaine frowns at them. This is not how this party is supposed to go.

“You couldn’t possibly have a reason to be mad at me, Tina,” says Kurt. He seats himself on a bar stool and crosses his legs.

“Couldn’t I?” Tina gives Blaine a pointed look.

“What’s going on?” says Blaine helplessly.

Kurt looks between them for a moment. “Oh. I get it. Somehow you’re under the impression that I’m taking Blaine away from you.”

“You got it,” says Tina. “And you are. Blaine was happy here.”

“You are aware that Blaine is the one who suggested moving, Tina,” says Kurt.

Tina looks at Blaine and he meets her eyes and nods. 

Kurt continues. “And you might consider the fact that Broadway isn’t a bad place for someone with ambition in musical theater.”

Blaine says, “But I’m going to miss you, Tina.”

“You’d better,” she replies. She turns to Kurt. “And you’d better make him happy. That goes for both of you.” She shudders dramatically. “Ugh. This is awful. As of Monday I’m going to be the only McKinley person in San Francisco and I am not even a little bit okay with that.”

“Get back on Facebook,” says Kurt. “I’m sure someone else moved out here. Try stalking them.”

Tina glares at him, then relents and laughs. “Okay. Okay you guys. I am happy for you both,” she says. “It’s just really hard to lose you.”

Blaine wraps her in his arms as her face crumples. He tries to signal over her shoulder to get Tex to come and take responsibility for his girlfriend but Tex just laughs and shakes his head. So Blaine rubs her back and promises to visit, and Kurt finds her some napkins and takes her to the washroom to fix her smudged make-up. 

At midnight the bar is more crowded and starting to get messy. They’re surrounded by cast and crew and friends. Blaine has his arms wrapped around Kurt’s body, his hands wandering over Kurt’s slender hips and his lips hot against Kurt’s throat.

There’s a cough from Wes behind him. Kurt lifts his head and turns Blaine around.

“Blaine,” says Bevin. “Hello. And Kurt too. Together apparently... how sweet.”

“Uh, thank you?” says Blaine automatically, although Bevin doesn’t sound like he actually thinks it’s all that sweet. Blaine unwraps his arms from Kurt. He’s grateful when Kurt takes his hand.

Devi pushes her way through the crowd. “I have news,” says Bevin. “About the show.”

“Don’t hold us in suspense,” Devi says as she reaches them. “Frankly, it’s been fucking killing us.”

Bevin is still for a moment. Then he grins broadly. Blaine has never seen him smile like that. “It’s a go,” Bevin says. “All the investors are on board. You’ve got the money. You’re going to Broadway.” He nods to include Kurt. “All of you.”

“Yes!” roars Devi with a fist pump.

Wes reaches to shake Bevin’s hand heartily, then tries to shake Devi’s while she hugs him.

Kurt squeaks a little and presses more closely against Blaine. He turns to kiss Blaine’s temple. “We did it,” he says, eyes shining. “We did it.”

Blaine kisses him back. 

Bevin eyes them with what looks like misgiving. “There’s going to be some changes, though. Big picture changes. You need a better set to start with. And some of the choreography was a bit too West Coast. And I’ve got a media guy. You two,” he indicates Kurt and Blaine, “will be doing a lot of publicity. Don’t complain about it. You and Ms. Kirsch can shoulder the blame for that.”

“We can live with that,” says Kurt.

“And as for whatever this is with you two: Kurt, Blaine. Leave me out of the inevitable drama when this charming little showmance falls apart in the big city.”

Kurt opens his mouth to protest but Blaine speaks first. “Thank you. We’re very happy.” He smiles at Bevin and then reaches to shake his hand.

Of course they’re happy. It’s their show. Blaine thinks he might be happy forever because right now he had this perfect moment.

**

Kurt and Blaine don’t leave San Francisco until the next afternoon. Kurt’s spent the last hour carrying boxes and bags down Blaine’s staircase and holding his tongue. He speaks up as Blaine tries to squeeze a third shoe organizer into the trunk. It won’t fit.

“You are going to need to accept that you have to leave that one behind,” Kurt says. “You can fit the shoes in one of the bags.”

Blaine raises his head. He’s irritated. “There’s a pair of John Lobbs in there.” 

“Blaine honey, you know that of all people I value good shoes and good shoe care. But I also need to be able to close the trunk so we can see out the rear window.”

Blaine sighs melodramatically and starts to unpack the shoes. 

He cheers up once they are on the road, with Kurt behind the driver’s wheel. 

“I bought jerky,” Blaine says. “And juice boxes. And I’ve got our playlists. This is going to be amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” says Kurt, only half teasing. 

Blaine rests a hand on Kurt’s knee. 

Kurt’s become accustomed to being surrounded by buildings and movement. Once they leave the city he feels untethered. It’s weirdly alarming to drive across this wide open space. In the city, ugliness and beauty are thrust upon him and unmissable. Here he could let it all pass by. Any beauty is caught up in the tiny empty details of the flat land and sky.

Still, that sky is blue above them and Blaine looks perfectly relaxed. Kurt rolls down the window and tries to forget about the things that will do to his hair. Apparently they’ve moved into the 1980s synthpop portion of their playlist. _You were always on my mind_ , Blaine sings. _You were always on my mind_. Kurt joins in with the harmonies. 

When they finally pull into the motel parking lot, Kurt’s careful not to touch Blaine. He’s pleased when the desk clerk shows no interest in them. They’re both experienced enough not to feel self-conscious about sharing a room, of course. But here in the middle of nowhere it feels like something new and potentially something dangerous. 

Their room has two beds with red and gold bedspreads and is somehow both garish and ordinary. Blaine pats Kurt’s arm comfortingly. 

“The sheets are clean, sweetheart, and the bathroom is spotless. We’ll be okay,” he says. “Hungry?” 

After dinner, Kurt orders the brownie sundae he richly deserves. Across the table Blaine’s eyes drop to Kurt’s lips as he licks the last cream and chocolate sauce from his spoon. He lets his tongue flicker out to touch his lower lip and watches Blaine’s eyes darken.

“Big day driving tomorrow,” Kurt says. “Let’s pay the bill.” He smiles at Blaine consideringly, making it a promise of things to come.

At the curb, Blaine says, “I know we need to get to bed but can we take a little side trip?”

Kurt almost groans with frustration. “No, Blaine. Really?”

“It’ll be worth it,” says Blaine, his brow furrowed as though he’s not quite certain. 

Kurt looks at him. “Okay,” he says finally. “Okay. Where are we going?” 

They drive to the local reservoir - a dark span of water with pine trees sloping away down steep hills. They pull up and turn out the headlights. Blaine walks around the car to take Kurt’s hand and lead him to the rock wall of the lookout. They lean against the wall, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, hand in hand. The water stretches out before them. It’s still and black out here, clear like the city never is, so it feels like the whole universe is just the two of them and the stars.

“I wanted to show you how wonderful these two weeks are going to be,” says Blaine.

Kurt lets the beauty and the emptiness wash over him.

“Thank you,” he says. “You’re right, it will be.” Blaine has always been able to show Kurt where wonder begins and ends. 

Blaine beams. Kurt steps in behind him and stands close. He wraps his arms around Blaine’s waist and rests his chin on Blaine’s shoulder. 

Blaine breathes steadily in the darkness. “I fell in love with you eight years ago, Kurt. We were just kids, sure, but right there from the start you were my first and last, the love of my life. I was finished. Everything I wanted, for the whole of my life, was to love you.” He turns in Kurt’s arms. There’s silence all around. “And now years later all the things I dreamed for us are true. We’re together again and, honestly, I’m more in love with you than ever.” He lowers his gaze and smiles to himself. “I just wanted you to know.”

 _Someday this will be a proposal_ , Kurt thinks and the thought flashes like lightning in his brain, quick and frightening. It steals his breath.

“Someday, you know, this will be a proposal,” says Blaine. The words are sweet and sure on his tongue. 

Kurt feels both the thrill and the blissful ease of this. He leans closer, turns his head to bury his face in Blaine’s neck. Blaine smells achingly like home and forever. 

Kurt can already imagine the proposal. Blaine will use his considerable charm to rope in everyone he knows on Broadway. He’ll direct the entire cast of the production in some ridiculously romantic musical number. He’ll involve the audience, the front of house staff, a few nearby scalpers, a passing street sweeper. It will be absurd. But it’s Blaine. He will mean every moment of it. Kurt sighs. He’s going to be a Broadway star. He can definitely appreciate a spectacle. 

“I love you,” he breathes against Blaine’s skin. “When it’s a proposal, you know I’ll say yes.”

*

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to multicorn for inspiration. And without Corinna this wouldn't have beyonce or broadway proposals or a thousand little and huge things that make it better.


End file.
